


Old Flames Don't Fade

by OnyxLeopard



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Sexual Situations, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, F/M, Humor, Light Angst, M/M, Mercenaries, Past Relationship(s), Platonic Relationships, Post-Divorce, Romance, Sexual Content, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2018-08-10 13:33:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7847068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxLeopard/pseuds/OnyxLeopard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mercenary!AU<br/>Gabriel Reyes had cut ties with Overwatch International more than a decade ago, with Amélie Lacroix following soon after. Work with Talon proved lucrative for the two, until a major corporate buyout forces the two to confront their old demons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Buyout

The shareholders meeting had turned into a formal affair decorated with lively music and conversation. The decor was also quite impeccable: rosewood dance floor, pristine furnishings, and even an indoor waterfall near the entrance to the ballroom. All around the room, investors and corporate leaders made lively conversation, and the air was filled with laughter and clinking of champagne glasses. The spirited atmosphere permeated the room, and Reyes hated every single second of it.

His arms firmly crossed over his chest as he stood against one of the far walls of the ballroom. His eyes scanning over the crowds with barely concealed disgust.

“Enjoying the party, I see.”

Reyes quickly turned his head to the voice next to him and deepened his scowl. Amélie casually sauntered over to stand next to his bulking mass holding a glass of champagne in one hand, and glass of whiskey in the other.

“I hate these suits;” Reyes stated taking the glass of whiskey and taking a generous swig, “They’re just cowards with a nose for money.”

“Lâches riches who pay our bills.”

“And who sold us to the highest bidder.”

Amélie sighed, walking over to stand beside her partner. The entire purpose of the shareholders meeting had been to formally celebrate the buyout of Talon International by Overwatch security consultancy: making Overwatch the largest private military company in the world.

Though it truly came as no surprise; Talon had been outperformed by Overwatch in the stock market for little over two years. Combined with being swamped with legal litigation for questionable ethics and being band from operating in twelve different countries, it was almost an inevitability that this would be the end result. But Reyes’ sour mood went deeper than just being beaten by their competitor. He had left Overwatch a decade ago under not so amicable terms, and joined with Talon soon after. The bitter irony of the situation was almost laughable: and Reyes was beyond bitter.

Reyes held a white knuckled grip on his glass as he downed the rest of his drink. The rage seething from his body was almost palpable. Amélie rolled her eyes, instead focusing her gaze on her own drink, watching the gold liquid turn in her glass as she swirled it around.

“You have to admit though: As a funeral to Talon, they couldn’t have picked a more underwhelming send off.”

He gave a humorless chuckle, “Just one last nail in the coffin. Wish it was to mine too.”

“Still fighting over your contract?”

“What do you think?” Reyes spat.

Amélie’s indifferent expression did not waver as she was more than used to the man’s venom, instead joining him in watching the people move around the room. She had mingled among some of the shareholders for a short time, even subtly flirting with some of the older gentlemen. It all was a farce to be sure—a way to keep face with investors and her new employers—and it was more than a little annoying to have to glare at some of the more _handsy_ patrons. If her employment was not at risk, she would have gladly given them some rough handling herself.

She took a swig from her glass and grimaced, quickly handing it off to a passing server.

“ _Les ordures_.”

“Such a pretty lady shouldn’t be so unrefined.”

Amélie didn’t miss a beat, “Such a strapping man should have a _lady_ at his arm, monsieur le flirt.”

Reyes winced at the dig and his brown eyes snapped to stare down the french woman with a burning gaze. The glass in his grasp cracked under his tightening grip. Those words usually had no affect on him, but they stung more than usual tonight. Amélie sighed and softly nudged him with her shoulder. It was a small gesture, and a touch she sparely allowed to anyone else, but it was enough to convey her wordless apology. The tight set of Reyes’ jaw loosened ever so slightly. He felt the woman’s cool hand on his wrist, lightly messaging his taut skin until he loosened his death-grip on the splitting container.

The french woman leaned in and whispered softly, “If you don’t want to be here, you know you can leave.”

Reyes was aware. The thought had crossed his mind more than a couple of times that night. He knew that his presence was no longer needed beyond the main event of the conference. Still he didn’t feel like going to his hotel room. Not just yet anyway.

“Yeah. Wouldn’t mind getting some actual drinks at a bar,” He let out a heavy sigh as he rolled his neck with an audible pop, “though it’d be a shame to leave a damsel in such distress...”

“While I’d enjoy your sparkling personality: I’m going to continue networking.” Amélie declined, moving from her place beside him toward a group of investors, “Unlike you my contract ends in less than a month.”

‘ _Well happy hunting_ ,’Reyes thought, putting the glass in his hand to his lips. Remembering it being empty he hailed over a server for another drink.

While requesting another whiskey, Reyes looked over his waiter; a younger Hispanic man, probably in his early thirties, with slicked back brown hair, and hazel eyes. He was square jawed and slightly toned in build, if his shoulders and frame were any indication. Easy on the eyes too, Reyes noted. As he handed of his glass to the server, he purposely allowed his thick fingers to graze over the younger man’s palm. The mere contact mad the server blush, and Reyes overtly looked into his eyes hazel eyes with a predatory hunger.

As the young man scurried away to fulfill his order, Reyes couldn’t resist looking at the man’s firm bottom as it swayed ever so slightly. He supposed that itch hadn’t been scratched in some time.

Loud boisterous laughter soon caught his attention, drawing his eyes away from that tantalizing figure over to an imposing bearded giant of a man. Reinhardt stood among an enraptured crowd, recounting some past adventure with a voice that was easily audible from across the room. Reyes grimaced as the man merely slapped one of the men in the crowd on the back so roughly that he had almost spilled his drink. As the spectacle continued, he could feel the presence of another person next to him. He knew exactly who it was, but he ignored the person just for a few moments longer.

“What do you want?”

“Can’t a cowboy say howdy to his ol’man?” McCree replied nonchalantly, an unlit cigar rolling between his teeth.

“I’d rather you didn’t. _”_ Reyes muttered lowly.

He had once mentored the young cowboy a few years before he left Overwatch. To his memory, Jesse McCree had been as much of an annoyance then as he was now. The two stood in relative silence for a moment, Reyes concernedly making an effort to avoid looking at the other man. McCree just gave him a once over and chuckled.

“Find something funny?”

“Yeah: you in a suit.”

Reyes gritted his teeth and adjusted his tie roughly. Formal events had never been his forte: He felt much more comfortable during an operation or security detail with his trusted shotguns at his side. Honestly it had taken Amélie more than a day to convince him to even show up to the conference, much less disarmed and in formal wear.

“Like you’re one to talk: you couldn’t even take off that stupid hat.”

Jesse tipped his cowboy hat with a smug grin, “Nah, though definitely not without Angela try’n.”

Reyes grit his teeth at the name. He hadn’t seen the doctor ever since the incident, and the two had avoided each other ever since. She was the reason for his condition and was one of the main reasons he left the organization all those years ago. His mood only soured as he recalled standing on stage during the main conference shaking her hand in front room full of investors had left an awful taste in his mouth. What was taking that server so long?

Sensing the other man’s apprehension, Jesse absently pulled his cigar out of his mouth and inspected the wrapper.

“Care for a smoke?”

The question had come easily enough, though it felt absent of any real emotion even for the lively cowboy. Reyes rarely smoked with others, much less with someone so annoying. But he supposed the stuffy air of the ballroom was proving more unbearable than the prospect of the other man’s company.

“Yeah sure.” Reyes finally relented.

The two men walked out of the ballroom to an adjacent balcony overlooking the ocean. The humid Spanish air clinging to their skin. The balcony overlooked an ocean view with the moon reflecting off it’s dark waters. It definitely weighed less on his nerves, Reyes had to admit. Leaning against the railing, the two still had a clear view into the ongoing festivities. Reaching into the inner lining of his blazer, McCree produced another cigar. Cutting its head with a pocket knife, he handed the cigar over to the older man. Reyes took it, casually rolled the oiling wrapper in his fingers. He inspected the label and sneered.

“Of course you’d have some cheap American brand.”

McCree just torched the end of his cigar, “Cheap but decent, hombre.”

As the two smoked, Reyes closed his eyes and a slowly drew in the smoke into his mouth, letting the smooth draw down his throat and out his nose. He appreciated the heat on his tongue, even if the cigar lacked the spice he regularly preferred. The two quietly smoked for half an hour, the only things leaving their lips were plumes of smoke and the occasion idle chatter from McCree.

“Better this than be’n ‘round them stuffy suits, eh Reyes?”

Reyes grunted in response, paying more attention to the a small group of Overwatch agents that had congregated toward the ear splitting German. Since he had left, Reyes had made a conscious effort to avoid coming into contact with any of his old colleagues. With the exception of McCree, who had been a decidedly persistent annoyance, Reyes had managed to keep out of direct contact with most of his old colleagues.

Many of the group were faces he recognized: namely the dwarfish swede Torbjörn, doctor Angela Ziegler, and the large ape that called himself Winston. Reyes found Winston to be the most ridiculous thing at the entire party see as how the ape had managed to get a rather large custom fitted tuxedo complete with a little bow tie around his girth neck. The picture was humorous enough that a ghost of a grin tugged at his lips.

“Y’know Gérard’s been looking fer ya; reckon he wanted to discuss the details of what’s left of yer contract.”

“The bastard still in there?”

“Hmm I’d says so.”

“Damn...Amélie is gonna be pissed.”

“Well don’t look now, but seems like Gérard’s already stumbled into that web.”

Looking over to where the cowboy was pointing, Reyes watched Gérard talk to Amélie with a hesitant look on his face. The man spoke with a soft smile while Amélie occasionally nodded her head. From their position on the balcony, all Reyes could see was Gérard’s face and the large spider tattoo on Amélie’s back. But he didn’t have to see his partner’s expression to know what she was feeling. Reyes could see the stiffness of the woman’s shoulders and how her legs went into a slightly wider stance than usual. He’d gotten to know when the other was uncomfortable noting all the little quirks in her personality that she concealed so well. As it currently were she was high-strung.

McCree made a move towards the pair, but Reyes pulled him back quickly.

“She might just take off the rest of your arm; best to let them be.” Reyes warned.

McCree gave him a questioning look before shrugging and leaning back against the railing, subconsciously rubbing his robotic limb. Reyes was impressed seeing as how it used to take a yelling match and some fists to get change the Cowboys mind. McCree had definitely wised up after all these years.

“Hard to believe those two used to be married,” McCree tapped some ash off the head of his cigar, “That woman’s as cold as a Swiss Blizzard.”

“You get used to it.”

Trailing his eyes away from the pair and back to the group of agents, a short girl with spiked brown hair and pierced ears caught his eye. She fluttered around Winston with a goofy smile, laughing at something the towering German had said. Underneath the girl’s pantsuit, he could see dull light glowing from he clothed chest.

“Who’s the small girl?”

McCree searched confusedly into the crowd before zeroing in on the girl, “Oh Lena? Ya seriously don’t ‘member her in yer old age?”

“Should I?”

“Hey well ya ‘member that sixteen year old who test piloted the slipstream prototype fer the British Royal Air Force?”

“I remember it failing, yeah.”

“Well after the accident, Overwatch recruited her after her—what they call it: ‘ _chronal di_ _sassociat’n_ _’_ was corrected by Winston. Before then she was pretty much a time ghost.”

Reyes scratched his beard in thought withdrawing is cigar from his mouth. He took a second to think, before shrugging his shoulders.

“Time ghost huh...and what about the monkey?”

“Ya seriously don’t member Winston? Y’all used to go at each other’s throats: he graduated train’n with me for Pete’s sake—”

The cowboy caught sight of the old soldier’s knowing smirk. He huffed before settling back against the railing muttering, “Smart ass.”

On the rare occasion he somewhat missed getting the cowboy so exasperated; a small revenge for the countless times the cowboy grated her nerves. As Reyes observed the group, every so often the girl would sneak fleeting glances at the two divorcees. Reyes’ gut told him the girl was looking more at Amélie than anything else. He even caught her biting her lower lip, and blushing when Winston caught her staring. The scene was too rich, and he smirked; It would seem Amélie had an admirer.

The two men bantered for a few hours into the night, drinking whiskey—Reyes had to ask for another one since the other server had disappeared somewhere—interspersed with the occasional reminiscing. Both men appreciating their shared company: when they weren’t fighting, the two held a mutual respect for one another. Reyes was always grounded, and McCree always laid back. There was no cause for talking about their feelings; no need to get muddied in that convoluted mess. The two just let the other be as they were and they preferred it that way.

As the night drew to a close, many of the guests had left the ballroom to retreat back to their hotel rooms. Some stayed to slow dance the night away as the band played a smooth melody. Reyes swigged his whiskey, his cigar having gone out long ago. McCree on the other hand begun to light his fourth cigar of the night before it was plucked from his grasp.

“Give it a rest Jesse, you already smell like a chimney.”

Reyes made a sidelong glance as McCree gave a halfhearted apology. Doctor Angela Ziegler, wearing a shimmering white dress and gold heels, fixed the cowboy with a stern expression as he snuffed out the lit cigar on the railing and gingerly placing it back in his inner coat pocket. After all these years, the doctor hadn’t aged a day. Reyes wouldn’t be surprised if her youthful appearance was attributed to one of her experiments. She turned her attention to him and he looked away reflexively.

“Gabriel, you’re looking well.” She gave a faint smile.

Reyes kept his eyes pointed toward the ball room and took another swig of his drink, “Angela.”

The humid air began to feel like it was barring down on the three of them with the mounting tension. McCree rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably, while Reyes just stared off into nothing in particular. To her credit, Angela just continued on with that faint smile.

“Honestly I was surprised you would be joining us this evening, Gabriel; you never were one for large crowds.” Angela lightly bantered.

Reyes cleared his throat and continued staring at oblivion with his jaw tightly set. McCree spoke up for in the other’s place, “Well ya know Reyes: always had someth’n or other to do.”

“Indeed...” Angela said quietly.

Her eyes scanned Reyes’ face, noting the scaring that scattered around his skin. Some of them were new but most of them were old, deep and faded. Reyes adjusted his stance against the railing, seething under the woman’s scrutiny. His dark eyes narrowed as he glanced back at the doctor silently. Angela noted the inky black substance that crept around the edges of his eyes.

She hesitated, “How has your... _state_ been since last we spoke?”

Reyes turned his head fully to the doctor and glowered at her. Angela remained completely poised and patiently waited for his response.

“Now doc we’re at a party,” McCree moved to interrupt, “no need t’get all analytical an—”

“I’ve been better,” Reyes reluctantly replied, “and yes: I’m still taking those damn pills you refuse to stop sending me.”

Angela gave a firm nod, putting a stray blond hair behind her ear. She knew how the man felt about her and their relationship was anything but friendly, but she could not stop herself from caring about the other’s well being. After all these years, she refused to forget that they used to be at one point friends.

As the night came to an end, the rest of the patrons began filing out of the ballroom and group of the agents moved to the balcony to joined the trio. The crowded group did nothing to stave off the growing humidity. As was to be expected, everyone was hesitant to greet him. Most gave curt nods, or a muttered some type of greeting. Reinhardt in particular, despite his jovial manner from earlier, stayed eerily quiet. The light atmosphere was exchanged for a more sobering tone. Gérard was the last to join the group; Amélie nowhere in sight.

“Aha Gabriel! It is good to see you old friend.” Gérard greeted, extending his hand.

Reyes had never been friendly with Gérard, that was true for most of his former colleagues, yet he knew that the man was just being cordial as a formality, the Frenchman was a business man after all, it should have been as simple as that. But that smile was all teeth, and Reyes could tell the other man was a little frazzled.

Reyes shook the man’s hand in a rough grip, “Lacroix. You were looking for me?”

“Um...yes I was actually: I understand that your original contract with Talon was quite lucrative.”

“They owed me half a million.”

At this the spry Brit whistled in astonishment, some of the group even raised an eyebrow. Reyes didn’t make it a habit of disclosing his earnings, in fact their entire exchange was probably better suited behind closed doors, but discretion was no concern at the moment; not when he was already set to lose most of his income already.

“five-hundred thousand for five years of deployment.”

“Oui, the documents stated as much,” Gérard straightened his suit, “but you had only completed two years before the acquisition.”

Reyes was already getting annoyed, “Just get to the point.”

Gérard’s smile grew as he pulled out a napkin from his chest pocket along with a pen. The group curiously watched as he began to write something down on the napkin, before neatly folding it and handing it to Reyes.

“While most organizations would just cut you loose and pay you some small compensation, I know your skills first hand.” Gérard gave a fake chuckle as Reyes opened the napkin, “What would you say to that bonus, in exchange for three more years added onto your contract?”

To his credit, Reyes avoided raising his brow at the scribbled number on the napkin. It was a pretty generous offer, given that terminating his contract would earn him less than a fourth of what his original terms were, “How are you going to convince your bosses that I’m worth this much?”

“With your combat expertise, I’d say it would take very little effort on my part.”

“I’ve built up quite a rap sheet while with Talon.”

“We can have legal get most of it expunged, évidemment.”

“I work best with Amélie, think you can set her up with a new contract too?”

At the first mention of the woman’s name, Gérard flinched. It was a very subtle reaction, and he had recovered so quickly that it was as if he never reacted at all. But Reyes had noticed it all the same.

“...if she agrees to it, then that can be arranged.”

Reyes paused for a moment to let the situation sink in. He turned the glass he held in his hand and balled the napkin in the other. This was better than what he could have hoped for, in all honesty; and with Talon as an ever present stain on his resume, he was sure that he would have to go freelance on his own. He drew the glass to his lips and drew a long drink, indulging in the burn down his throat. Some of the group shifted uncomfortably in the ensuing silence.

After a minute of pondering, Reyes finally spoke, “I’m gonna need this on paper.”

The older members of the group let out a sigh of relief, and even Gérard seemed to relax. It was as if a heavy weight had finally been lifted around the group. McCree just tipped his hat at him, while Angela gave a genuine smile. Reinhardt let out a bellowing raspy laugh.

“Bwahaha! You know Reyes, you were always a hard nut to crack.” The giant German roughly slapped him on the back, nearly winding him, “It will be just like the old days!”

Reyes hoped the German was wrong.


	2. Of Pleasure and Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains non-graphic sexual content.

With the conference finally over Reyes exited the ballroom alone into the adjacent hall. He tiredly rolled his shoulders, letting out a long sigh. The group were certainly as spirited as he had remembered; the Swede and the German even more so.

He began rubbing what was the beginning of a mounting headache as he recalled they’re loud banter. Lena in particular had been the most talkative of the group. She had been like a little ball of energy: always having some type of comment for such story or another. His ears still rang from the noisy Brit.

A long yawn escaped his lips as he began walking down the hall towards the lobby. He had undone his tie along with the top three buttons of his dress shirt, relieved at the cool conditioned air on his neck. As he gently massaged the ache in his shoulders he heard the sound of faint laughter coming from around another hall perpendicular to the one he was traveling down.

Reyes was not usually a man to be led by curiosity, but something about that welcoming laugh sounded familiar. Letting his curiosity get the better of him, he quietly approached the corner of the next hall. He peered around the corner and could only see a woman’s back.

“It was an interesting night; even if it was too showy for my tastes,” the woman softly chuckled.

Reyes recognized that aged voice. Ana Amari’s laughs still held that familiar lull, comforting in it’s gentleness. Yet the sound of the woman’s voice made Reyes uneasy.

Her once long black hair now grayed was formed in a single braid that went down to the middle of her back. She wore a blue long-sleeved dress with turquoise embellishments, which made Reyes smirk; she always was so modest in her attire. He faintly wondered if she still had that tattoo of the eye of Ra under her left eye. As he listened to the woman speak, stayed unnaturally still, eyes solely placed on the back of the woman’s head.

“It was all more of a show for the investors, Ana, not for old soldiers like us.” The woman’s companion replied.

Reyes’ eyes widened at the other voice, and his whole body ran cold. Jack Morrison; He’d recognize the man’s voice anywhere. Morrison had avoided making a public appearance at the conference early that day, and Reyes had naively thought he had declined to attend the conference at all. He should have known better. His former friend couldn’t resist to watch the down fall of Talon: he had absolutely despised the organization since its inception.

“Anyway I’m just glad the acquisition finally went through,” Jack continued, adding bitterly, “Good riddance to those damn terrorists.”

“Jack please, there’s no need to get your self all worked up over it.”

Jack relented, “Your right, and it’s not like any of those cowards were going to join Overwatch anyway.”

From his position from around the corner, Reyes watched as Ana momentarily paused. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, swaying back and forth.

“You saw Gabriel up on stage too, didn’t you? I heard that he’s still trying to negotiate his contract.”

Jack’s voice went cold, “That bastard is just looking to get paid and run.”

“I wouldn’t be too sure: from what Gérard told me, he might just consider extending his contract with us.” Ana said sounding more in thought.

“You’re relying on Gérard?” Jack gave a humorless chuckle, “He traded his gun for a suit a long time ago, and while I trust him with budgeting and getting our voices heard by corporate: he doesn’t know that asshole like I know him.”

Jack’s voice took on a warning tone, “Believe me when I say it, Ana: Reyes is still a selfish prick. Always was, always will be.”

Reyes’ fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. He wasn’t surprised by the old soldier’s hatred, in fact the feeling was reciprocated in kind. To Reyes the old man still sat on his self-righteous horse, looking down on him like some vile wretch in the dirt. Reyes’ quietly fumed from his place behind the corner, a dark mist seeped from between his clenched teeth.

Ana shifted forward in what Reyes could guess was a movement to touch Jack’s shoulder.

She sighed, “You two used to be so close...I sometimes wonder how things could have gotten so bad.”

“You always gave him the benefit of the doubt. He’s taken advantage of you, of Gérard— ”

“That’s not true and you know it; the only person he took advantage of was you.” Ana interjected, her voice firm, but consoling. Jack sighed seeming to calm himself down a bit.

“He left when things didn’t go his way,” adding bitterly, “As far as I’m concerned, Reyes can go to hell.”

Reyes’ breathing became ragged. His anger mounting, he resisted the urge to round the corner and punch Jack in the face. Since he could not see the other man, his eyes subconsciously narrowed on the back of the Ana’s head. Ana, as if sensing his seething rage, quickly turned around in surprised. But when her eyes fell on the corner of the hallway, nothing was there.

Reyes splashed cold water from the onto his face. He grimaced at the dark sludge that fell from his mouth and eyes down the drain. Looking up at the mirror he observed his skin and muscle receding around his face and neck, revealing bone and a black smoke. The effects of his condition were always worse when he used his powers; the degradation of his cells stuck in an infinite loop of spontaneous decay and regeneration. He sighed pulling a small capsule of pills from his breast pocket. Sneering at the small container, he shook two tiny dark green pills the palm of his hand. He popped both them into his mouth.

An hour later Reyes exited the men’s bathroom. Though his skin was back to it rough texture his mind was still occupied by the visages of his two old colleagues. He rolled his shoulders in an attempt to release his mounting frustration. When that failed he groaned, making his way down the hall; deciding sleep was the best course of action.

making his way towards the lobby, he noticed a small group of hotel staff chatting amongst themselves. His eyes fell on one of the men in particular; the attractive server from earlier in the night. The man’s hazel eyes were vibrant with with whatever the group was talking about. They grew even more lively when he caught sight of the brooding mercenary from down the hall. A small mischievous smile played on the man’s lips. Reyes returned the gesture in kind. Sleep could wait just a little longer.

 

Soft kisses wormed their way up his thigh while the man’s hand moved steadily up down. Reyes grunted as his fingers tangled himself in slick brown locks. His fingers violently grasping the other’s hair in a firm grip, though the other man seemed to enjoy the rough treatment; moaning and moving his kisses up his length. Their hands had been exploring each others bodies the minute they had read his hotel room; intertwined in hot kisses and possessive touches. But While Reyes’ body was being worshiped in the other man’s attention, the old soldiers thoughts were preoccupied. Ana’s long hair. Jack’s thick gravel voice. He couldn’t push away their presence in his mind.

The other’s man’s mouth was upon him, moaning as his head bobbed. Reyes grunted as the vibrations traveled up his stomach. His own low groan reverberated in his chest, eyes shut in ecstasy. He tried to focus on the blissful dark of his eyelids. Fleeting thoughts of Ana’s laughter, a loving sound that caressed his ear flickered to the forefront of his thoughts. Memories of Jack smiling, arms wrapped their shoulders, joking about some-such thing that he found humorous. Reyes wanted to claw the wrenched images from his brain. His eyes darted open; two conflicting pressures occupied his head and his loins, and Reyes wanted the former to just burn away.

Shoving the man off of him and onto the bed, Reyes quickly positioned himself between the man’s legs. Pressing forward he relished in the choked gasp, followed by pleasured moans. When the man moved in for a kiss Reyes pushed him down on to his hotel bed, and growled, “Stay down!”

“Ooh Papi looks mad.” The man teased.

“Just shut up!”

It had been the first words the man had spoke since they had entered the room and already he was talking too much. Reyes quickened his thrusts, keeping the rhythm fast and rough. He could feel the constriction in his stomach, his hand gripping desperately to an exposed hip. All the while he could feel the blissful heat run up his spine, mingling with his persistent thoughts. Sensations and images converged in a confusing amalgamation of memories:

 _A lithe hand o_ _n_ _his cheek._

_Callous hands wrapped around his throat._

_Furious eyes borrowing into him._

_Soft lips on his own._

_A betrayed snarl._

_Two moans against his neck._

_“Reyes!”_

_“Reyes?”_

_“Reyes...”_

Reyes was drowning. He was drowning in his memories: torn between physical bliss, and mental anguish. Pushing himself over the edge, he finally felt the release of pressure in his loins. The world around him was consumed in a muted white noise. It stayed still in that moment, as if time had stopped in its ever consistent flow, in the briefest of moments color shined like they were over exposed. His breathing ragged, Reyes felt his heart calm as the world slowly lost it’s vibrancy and returned to normal. After a moment of descending from his high, Reyes looked down at the man below him; his eyes wide open in shock. But his gaze was past his shoulder.

Standing just behind the two men in her black dress, Amélie looked over the two with her arms crossed over her chest. The man underneath Reyes looked absolutely terrified, poised and ready to sprint out of the room.

Reyes casually untangling himself from between the other man’s legs and sighed, “You’re back late.”

“I would have stayed out longer if I knew you had...company.”Amélie stated flatly, moving to the other bed while kicking off her heels.

Reyes laid himself down on the bed with his face deep in the pillows, letting out a long groan. The man next to him looked absolutely bewildered; his eyes darting between the two strangers like he was in a bizarre dream. Amélie just went about undoing her bra from underneath her dress and tossed it onto her bed. Reyes stayed completely still, the only indication he was even alive was the slight rise and fall of his shoulders.

The man finally spoke up sheepishly, “Um are you both—how would you say—in a relationship?”

“Non.” Amélie replied as she undid her pony-tail; Reyes just remained silent.

The other man paused for a moment, looking over the woman’s body. Her skin despite it’s peculiar purple pigment, looked attractive. She had a pretty face too, he thought as he appraised the woman’s full lips.

“Well,” The man sat up on the bed, not ashamed of his nudity in front of the woman, “the night is still young. What would you say to some intimate company, beautiful; tengo una lengua con mucho talento.”

The sniper’s golden eyes stared unmoving at him, completely ignoring the brazen comment.

“Such a little man,” she directed her statement at the erection between the man’s legs before looking back into his eyes, “je ne baise des putes.”

He giggled, completely undeterred, “I may be a puta, but I can still make you’re body scream, honey.”

“Get out.”

The man jumped at the low growl. Reyes turned his head away from the pillow, glaring daggers at the man beside him. The other man made a motioned to protest but thought better of it; dejectedly hopping off the bed and went to work collecting his clothes scattered on the floor. Muttering curses under his breath, he quickly slid on his pants and blouse before walking out the hotel room.

Reyes rolled his eyes, turning fully onto his back, “Annoying shit.”

“I thought sex was a good stress reliever.”

“Guess not,” Reyes replied, casually sliding off the condom on his limp length and nonchalantly throwing it into the nearby trash.

Amélie continued to disrobe, letting her velvet black dress slide down her shoulders and pool onto the floor. Breast fully exposed, the woman began removing the silver necklace from around her next while the other went to rolling the soiled sheets long-ways down his bed.

They had been partners for seven years, and during all that time they would occasionally share the same room to save money while on missions. It was more for convenience than anything else: private contracting was primarily a male dominated field, and under their shared circumstance, Amélie was comfortable staying in the same room with him.

Reyes did not feel any sexual attraction towards her, and he was as far removed from prudishness as one could be. It was fortuitous then, that Amélie shared in the man’s unabashed attitude.

Sheets fully rolled up, Reyes laid back down onto his bed with his hands behind his head. He watched the other lay down onto of her own bed with a barely audible sigh. Her eyes transfixed on the ceiling.

“Saw you speaking with Gérard.” He stated, though slightly unsure of why.

Her eyes did not move to look at him, “He wanted to meet somewhere later for drinks.”

“Is that where you went?”

“Non. I just needed some fresh air.” She turned her head towards him, watching him from the gap between the two beds.

Reyes locked eyes with the sniper. He was used to the monotonous way she spoke, yet her voice held warning edge to it; her words were more clipped and precise. He decided it was best to change the subject, “Well your search for work can wait for awhile: I convinced them to extend your contract.”

“Oh,” she whispered with her voice softening. Amélie flipped her body fully towards him letting her long dark hair spilling over her shoulders. She looked deep in thought before continuing, “I suspect I will be getting a call soon then...”

Reyes made some noncommittal noise in affirmation. There were only so spare moments where the sniper looked so vulnerable; it ran in stark contradiction to her usually poised and unflinching demeanor. Amélie’s hand gentle grasped at the sheets underneath her.

“Merci.” she finally whispered, her voice distant.

“It’s not like I could say you’d do the same for me.”

The sniper’s eyes regained they’re cold edge, and a wry smirk graced her lips,“You’re right: I wouldn’t.”

Reyes put a hand to his chest feigning a gasp, “Is there no-one in this world I can trust?”

“Oh pauvre bébé; do you want me to get you another lay?”

Reyes gave a tired groan, “After tasting the ‘Spanish delicacies’, I’ll pass.”

Amélie gave a low chuckle before placing herself under the covers. Eyes closed, she took in a deep breath. Reyes turned off the lamp on the nightstand next to his bed and settled himself into the pillows. In the darkness of their hotel room Reyes’ thoughts lingered on old memories. He pondered on all the potential opportunities of what could have been, and all that was yet to come. He thought of Ana’s happy smile, and of Jack’s cold eyes.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I managed to keep this chapter briefer than the last one: roughly three pages shorter. But still that's progress, right?  
> This chapter was a bit tricky to write given that I have little to no experience writing tasteful sex scenes.  
> This chapter is being posted a day early since I have made some headway on the third chapter. Though in the future, I would suggest expecting four days to a week (at minimum) between chapters.  
> 


	3. Gibraltar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter should have been posted two days ago. My sincerest apologies on that.  
> In any case I wanted to thank those who have commented on this story; they've been kind and really have made my week.

Forward Operations base Gibraltar was situated in the Rock of Gibraltar, carved deep within the rock's limestone. The outermost part of the base was exposed to the salt winds that swept in from the Mediterranean sea. It was an advantageous location: giving fast ship and troop deployment when necessary, and added protection as the base expanded deeper into the rock. Amélie observed the metal, concrete and limestone that contrasted against the natural rock face of the cliff.

While she found the architecture to be an eyesore, the French woman could at the very least respect Gibraltar’s strategic importance. the periodic crosswinds made it difficult for aerial assault. It also brought cool air from the ocean, staving off the hot summer heat. She took a deep breath of the salty breeze, slowly exhaling through her nose. Beside her Reyes huffed for the sixth time that day. From the moment they had arrived, the man had been her silent menacing shadow.

As Amélie walked casually through the bases open corridors, the heel of her boots clicking against the pavement, she would occasionally catch the eyes of some of the base’s workers. Reyes would simply look in their general direction, face conveying his unbridled hatred, and they would scurry back to whatever needed to get done. Amélie found the entire situation asinine.

It took them fifteen minutes through the interior of the base before make their way to the command center, where the rest of the Overwatch agents were already gathered around a holo-table. Winston was already talking to the rest of the group, engrossed in whatever he was showing on the holographic display.

“We could utilize the earths gravitational pull as a sort of slingshot to launch our drone from global satellites.” Winston stated, adjusting his glasses.

When Torbjörn raised his prosthetic arm, Winston let out an aggravated sigh, “And no: we are not going to use the orbital drones to deliver alcohol.”

McCree and Lena couldn’t hold back their snickering as Angela shot them a disapproving look.

Torbjörn gave a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, “Can’t blame me for ask’n.”

Winston just rolled his eyes, catching sight of the two newcomers by the entrance. Soon the rest of the group turned around to look as well. Reyes left his place from Amélie’s side, stalking wordlessly over to lean against a metal crate near the outskirts of the crowd. Amélie was at least a little more cordial, managing a small ‘hello’, as she moved to stand closer to the display.

“Uh, Welcome!” Winston hesitantly greeted, extending a massive hand, “Or should I say welcome back, Ms. Lacroix.”

“‘Amélie’, is just fine.” She corrected, staring at the outstretched appendage as if it was some foreign instrument.

Reyes chuckled as the scientist awkwardly retracted his hand. Winston sent him a frustrated glare and Reyes just stared back with a condescending smirk.

Before the two could begin to argue, the blast doors to command center opened revealing Ana and Jack at her side. The group of agents stood at at attention as the two took their respective positions at the head of the table; only Amélie and Reyes stayed as they were. Jack eyed Reyes with disapproval, while Ana ignored the two men entirely. One signal with her hand and the rest of the group stood at rest. She cautiously eyed the other woman next to her.

“You’re looking well, Amélie: more blue than what I remember, but well.”

“Age before beauty I suppose.” The other woman responded flatly with her arms crossed.

Amélie noted how the Brit and the gorilla gawked in surprised at her quip; looking at Ana half expecting her to give the sniper a firm reprimand. Yet the Frenchman’s rudeness seemed to have left the older woman entirely unperturbed. Ignoring the comment, Ana turned her attention back to her companion, noting how he had been pawing the pistol holstered at his hip. She cleared her throat to get Jack's attention, motioning for him to speak.

“As you all are no doubt aware, since the acquisition Overwatch has become the largest private military contractor in the world.” He announced to the entire group, “Meaning we’ll have a lot more work in short order. As for right now; we’ve got an assignment coming in from Greece.”

The majority of the group listened along as Morrison went over the mission debrief. Amélie was not at all interested as they were no doubt going to receive a written synopsis later. Instead she observed the others faces noting the variety of beards, head shapes, body posture; all the little details that would compose a silhouette in her scope.

She caught the Brit’s pair of vibrant brown eyes staring back at her before darting back to Morrison. She had looked in her direction at least ten times since she and Reyes had entered the room, Amélie had been keeping a mental count. That last glance made eleven.

“Omega team will be with me: we’ll be shipping out in sixteen-hundred hours.” Jack concluded, eyes scanning the group, “Any questions? Good. Omega, Get prepped for deployment.”

The group dispersed, mostly eager to just leave the room. Ana stayed back for a moment, watching the younger woman leave before leveling her gaze at Reyes. Reyes remained slouched against the metal crates, yet he his stiff shoulders contrasted his relaxed pose. She was more than aware of the awkward tension. Jack busied himself with talking to the gorilla scientist about some mission logistics or other.

“Still a sourpuss, Gabriel?” She gently jabbed, “We really don’t need any more of those: with Amélie we have already fill our quota.”

His features twisted into what could be called a sarcastic smirk, betraying some genuine amusement. He allowed himself grunt that could be interpreted as some type of response. Ana seemed content enough with the response, adding, “I have some things that need doing. But if you want, I could give you a tour of the base sometime; show you what’s changed since you left.”

Reyes silently nodded, catching sight of how Jack’s jaw clenched from the corner of his eye. Ana gave one final goodbye to others before leaving the command center. When the blast doors shut behind her, Jack stiffly dismissed the scientist. Winston quickly scaled the tire swing that hung from the ceiling to his upper office, muttering vaguely about some data he left running. The two men waited until the door to his office hissed shut. Finally alone, Jack started forward while Reyes pushed himself off the metal crates.

“Got something to say, old man?” Reyes taunted.

“Now you listen here you son of a bitch: I don’t know why you decided to come crawling back, and frankly I don’t care. I’m not gonna stand by and watch you bring this organization down with your filth.”

Reyes just chuckled, moving so that he was standing directly in front of the other man, “Christ Jack, you must have _really_ missed me.”

“I’m in charge of mission coordination, and I run this division military! There’s no more Blackwatch. This isn’t your OP, so you best toe that fucking line.” Jack snapped, jabbing his index finger toward the other’s face.

Reyes’ eyes grew dark as he moved closer to other man until he was mere inches away from his face. Both men were unflinching, eyes never breaking contact, and it took all of their will power not to punch each other. This conversation was one they were both equally acquainted with: though the circumstances were different, this verbal tango was something both men had done for years. Jack would find someway to scold Reyes on his performance, and Reyes would provoke him at every opportunity. Even with a decades distance, it seemed old habits die hard.

“Or what: you’re going to kick my ass? _Kill me_?” Reyes added emphasis to the last two words, practically spitting them out, “I’m going to have to say you’re a little too late for that.”

Reyes could see is vision be consumed by a creeping darkness. Jack’s eyes widened, seeing the dark smoke that consumed the white of Reyes’ eyes, and his brown skin begin to pale. Yet he steeled himself, refusing to back down, “Give me a reason, and I won’t hesitate to try.”

For the briefest of moments, Reyes laughed. It was genuine chortle of noise that escaped his throat, and he had no idea why. Maybe it was the way Jack still held himself with that level of confidence in his old age: behind his scared face, and graying hair was the stubborn leader Reyes had once come to respect. Jack looked just as surprised as he felt, lost for words. All too quickly that laugh was covered by a condescending smirk.

Reyes finally backed away turning to leave, adding back over his shoulder, “You wanna be on top, Jack? Fine. But don’t be surprised if things get dirty.”

“I’ll take that risk.”

 

Inside the base’s hanger, Amélie gave one final look over her rifle in it’s compact form, making a few small adjustment to the weapon’s chassis. Finding everything to be satisfactory, she went on to calibrating the cable ejector on her gauntlet. She kept her eyes trained on the intricate springs, hands moving with a practiced precision.

While she would have much rather preferred the adequate facilities of the bases armory, Torbjörn’s constant hammering and complaining had proven more than unbearable. She had even made the unwanted discovery that the swede could yodel. Badly.

“What ya doing there, luv?” A jovial voice asked close be side her.

The sniper calmly turned her gaze to the jovial Brit sitting next to her on a metal storage crate. She rolled her eyes. She remained quiet, going back to realigning the cabling in her gauntlet. Lena frowned a bit to being ignored but she was not completely discouraged, looking over the sniper’s shoulder as she worked.

“You know we got an armory where you can—”

“This place suits me just fine.”

The Brit was taken aback by the woman’s voice. Amélie he bluntness would drive of the girl, but the talkative Brit persisted, “Yeah, I guess Torby’s not much of in the way of company.”

Amélie placed her gauntlet back on her wrist, looking over the contraption with a bored expression, “Le nain est trop bruyant: plus bruyant que ce lieu.”

“Um, sorry there luv. My french is...‘mal’?”

She sighed getting up to leave, “It’s nothing.”

Amélie slipped off the supply crate she was sitting on and began walking through the hangar. It was almost time for her to depart for the mission. She expected the Brit to leave her along, and the absence of foot steps from behind was almost relieving. That was until a blur of blue light flashed right next to her. Amélie gripped her rifle in surprise ready to shoot at the intruding figure beside her until she saw the Brit casually walking next to her, hands behind her head.

“So uh, you’re all set for the mission yeah?”

“Obviously.” Amélie replied, watching with disinterest as the Brit blushed profusely.

“C-course you are: what w-with all you’re gear on—Love the suit by the way.”

Amélie rolled her eyes, giving a noncommittal thanks. This new reaction seemed to have the undesired effect of spurring the Brit on, “Yeah very ‘trees bonne’. if you ask me. Never thought heels could be functional in a firefight: got you looking smart, too. I’m chuffed with these trainers all the same.”

It was at this point Amélie was beginning to lose her patience. She took a deep breath and looked at the Brit, That annoying smile still wide and as sickeningly optimistic as ever.

“Listen...what was your name again?”

“Oh I almost forgot: the name’s Lena Oxton!” The Brit proclaimed eagerly.

Amélie had to resist the urge to roll her eyes, “Right. I believe this is my stop.” She said pointing to the group of agents that composed Omega team.

The Brit had followed the Sniper until the two finally made it to the end of the hangar. Omega team was lined up in front of the airship with Ana and Jack standing in front of the group.

“Guess it is.” Lena agreed.

Amélie started walking toward the group with Lena following close behind. Amélie stopped in her tracks, looking at the Brit in annoyance, “Aren’t you needed someplace else?”

Lena looked at her quizzically, “What do you mean, luv?”

Amélie was about to iterate her point when Ana looked over to the pair and called out, “There’s our ace pilot; Lena get a leg out and get this bird in the air!”

“You got it!” Lena called back enthusiastically, jogging over to the airship.

Amélie just stared dumbfounded at the girl eagerly bounding down toward the drop-ship. The childish over-eager Brit was going to be their pilot. As the Brit looked back at her and winked, Amélie just knew she was in for a long flight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled to add substance with chapter, I wanted to add more substance without dragging on. I think I more or less succeeded. Though thoughts and critiques are appreciated.
> 
> On a complete derailment: I actually learned some interesting facts while researching details for this chapter:  
> Gibraltar is actually a British Oversees territory located at the tip of Spain, of which there are currently 14 territories around the world.  
> The countries national airport takes up such large portion of land to the effect that runway goes directly into the epicenter of a major thoroughfare. The cross winds coming from the Mediterranean actually adds a lot of turbulence coming into and out of the country.  
> This is all so completely superfluous and silly, but I just found them interesting none the less.


	4. Ilios

“Things good on yer end, Reyes?”

Reyes s tood alone in  a  dingy alleyway, ignoring the voice on his earpiece.  He could not comprehend for the life of him why he had ever agreed to pairing up with the cowboy  on the ground.  He would usually provide security for Amélie, but she was running reconnaissance from the rooftops, and his shotguns would prove  ineffective from that distance . Out of the few options he had, McCree was probably the best compliment his skills. 

In hindsight Reyes reflected that his nostalgic masochism for the ragged cowboy had won over logic than anything else. Still, even after years of mentoring the other man, McCree was still as annoying as Reyes remembered. Eyes fully closed beneath his mask, Reyes began counting down the seconds until the cowboy’s drawl buzzed in his ear again. He was not disappointed, “I repeat: what’s yer situation, Reyes?”

Reyes inhaled a deep breath, making sure it was audible through the radio. He rolled his shoulders and exhaled. Shifting to a crouching position, he shifted to peer around the corner of the alleyway to the main entrance leading to the Airstrip.

“ I know yer there, y’old dog.”

“You know protocol McCree: Call-signs on this frequency only.”

There was a momentary pause over the radio, before a series of muffled snickering could be heard. McCree tried to disguise his laughter by clearing his throat.

“Y’all— _ahem_ —yer serious?”

“Did I stutter?” Reyes growled.

McCree didn’t even attempt to hold back his laughter now, “It’s just; what type of name is ‘ _Reaper_ ’ anyway? And with that get up y’look like a Halloween costume!”

Reyes rolled his eyes. He preoccupied himself with twirling one of his shotguns, ignoring the laughter on the other end of his radio. His briefly wondered if he could get away with shooting off one of the cowboy’s limbs without anyone noticing.

“Says the man dressed as relic of the historical American fetish club?”

“Least I got a prettier mug than you.”

“McCree, behave.” Ana’s voice interrupted over the communication. It took the cowboy a few more seconds to calm himself before she continued, “What’s the ETA on the asset, 76?”

“ETA in fifteen.”

Overwatch had been hired by a wealthy Architecture firm to provide security for one of their head architects. It was simple by-the-book protection detail: Omega team were spread out around an abandon manufacturing facility that was deserted during the first Omnic Crisis. The derelict factories and decaying buildings provided the best cover for the agents. A narrow road trailed from the sprawl of villa’s in Ilios through the old facility to a refurbished private airfield.

Reyes had numerous missions like this one throughout his career: usually a wealthy businessman who wanted to flaunt their money by showing how many bodies they could put between themselves and any would-be assailant. On more than a few occasions, Reyes had been said assailant.

Taking a shotgun shell from his bandolier, he turned it in his hand inspecting the casing. Here he was, fully geared, squatting in an alleyway with shotguns drawn: waiting for some fat slob to get out of some expensive limousine, go into a private jet to go off and drown themselves in caviar somewhere exotic. Reyes pondered to himself on whether the pay was worth such monotonous work.

After a five minutes of watching rats scrounge around for food, Reyes grew bored. Connecting to a new frequency on his communicator he waited until he heard on audible click to confirm his connection. He searched the skyline until he spotted the top of a rusted billboard forty-five meters out.

“How’s the weather up there?”

There was a moment of silence over the channel. The dead air was to be expected, and Reyes waited patiently. Finally there was a faint sound of heels on metal before the other replied, “Cloudy.”

Reyes looked up to the sky where  an  overcast  was developing , “ in what way? ”

There was another pause. From his position, Reyes could barely make out the barrel of a rifle through the cracks of the board move to point in his general direction, “The sky and my mood.”

“At least you don’t have to deal with fucking rats.” Reyes said, swatting away a group of the little creatures away from his cloak.

“Rodents are drawn to their own kind.”

“And owls like harassing spiders.”

  


From the  behind the billboard , Amélie sat poised with her rifle aimed down  into  the  narrow pathway the convoy would pass through . It was an optimal choke point  in case  the  convoy was attacked on it’s way to it’s destination.  On the airstrip sat the client’s personal private Jet. Next to it was the bubbly Brit, standing on guard with a bored expression.

“ Looks like we’ll have some rain: expect low visibility,” And of course Amélie could not forget the older woman positioned next to her.

“I know.”

It was rare for Amélie to have a spotter on missions; he r visor allowed her  to  view  her surrounding in  eight different direction.  With a little optical augmentation and training, Amélie could notice any disruption and adjust herself in seconds. 

But Ana had been persistent in spotting for her old protege.  In Ana’s own words, she wanted to see if Talon had kept her former apprentice’s skills sharp. In the end  Amélie had agreed to the old woman’s request. While she all but enjoyed her old mentor’s presence, it was a bearable if nagging annoyance. At the very least she could sit in relative silence.

“Heard you talking; that you’re two’s private frequency?”

Or not.  Amélie kept her eyes  level with  the scope, “I s that a problem?”

“Of course not.” Ana replied,  directing her binocular’s down the passageway, “You  and Gabriel were close even before  you two  left.”

Amélie gave a sidelong glance at the older woman, rifle still poised at the ready. Ana let the binocular drop from her eyes but she did not look at Amélie. Instead she looked off into the Greek villa’s in the distance.

“How is he?” Ana asked.

“Reyes? He’s fine.”

“ Is that so...”

Something about the way the older woman said that felt off: like she was accusing her of something. Amélie just placed her gaze back through her scope. Whatever Ana was getting at, she decided she could care less. Amélie refused to entertain the older woman any further, but Ana had other plans, “He talks about you often: Gérard I mean.”

Amélie chose not to respond; she refused to talk on the matter. She let out a silent breath yet her entire body tensed, and her fingers tightened on the grip of her rifle.

“Even after all this time; after six years, he keeps on talking about you as though it were still the good old days. And now that you’ve come back—”

“What’s done is done; that was in the past.” Amélie snapped. She did not know why she was so upset. She chose to leave Gérard of her own volition. It did not surprise her that he still cared about her. He wanted a house wife, a quiet life; a small family in the country side. She preferred her work. In the end she chose to break away from him, go through augmentation to perfect her body for her profession. There was no quarrel. No bitter fight between who was wrong, or right. No past transgressions brought to a head. Their marriage had began in celebration, and ended in an accepted silence. She should have been content with that.

Ana peered back through her binoculars, “I suppose your right.”

Suddenly Ana went eerily silent, focusing all of her attention through the lenses. Amélie instinctively moved herself closer to where Ana was positioned and looked at where Ana was facing. In on of the abandoned buildings, three dark figures moved in the shadows. On any other given day, Amélie would have surmised that they were just some vagrants seeking shelter from the rain. But as she zeroed in her scope, she noted the body armor, and masks.

Ana called on her radio, “Reaper we have unidentified personnel three blocks east of your sector, how copy?”

“Repositioning.”

Reyes lazily rose up from his kneeling position. He allowed the black smoke from his body to envelope him into a mist, before flying up to a nearby rooftop. He flew along the roof’s edge until he spotted them from a hole in the building’s roof: three armed men geared to the teeth in body armor, and military grade weaponry. Maybe today was not going to be so boring after all.

“I’ve got a visual on them: there’s three of them, heavily armed and ready for a fight.”

Ana acknowledged, “76, we have three armed hostiles close to your route, permission to engage?”

“Clear them out. Our ETA is in ten.”

That was all Reyes needed to hear. The mist slowly receded from around his legs. As his feet touched the rooftop’s ledge, Reyes poised his shotguns across his chest. He poised himself, lifting one boot from the ledge, and let himself drop feet first into the building. The poor bastard that served as his cushioning hit ground face first. His companions, caught unaware by the sudden intrusion, only had a brief second to lift their rifles at the intruder. Reyes, however, did not hesitate letting two shots lose from his shotguns. In seconds the thugs crumpled to the ground. Looking over the three bodies at his feet, Reyes let out a bored huff as he radioed the team, “Hostiles down; though there’s probably—”

“Convoy coming in hot!”

Reyes quickly ran through the building until her made it to the doorway facing the narrow passage way where the convoy was going to pass. Mere seconds later an armored limo came roaring down the passage toward the airstrip followed by a hail of bullets and an armored truck.

“Couldn’t keep yourself out of trouble, huh Jack?” Reyes sighed, shaking his head.

Stepping one foot out of the doorway and into the road, Reyes watched as to armored truck sped down the passage. He walked slowly down the road, “idiots are in the choke.” he said over the radio.

The moment Reyes’ hand left the communicator, a loud rumble came thundering through an adjacent alley. Reinhardt charged forward in full armor colliding with the truck, and pinning it to a wall. The vehicle was almost torn completely in half. Shotguns at the ready Reyes casually jumped onto the trunk of the truck, shooting through the rear and front windows as he went. Pained screams echoed from the truck’s interior, before going completely silent. Reinhardt looked on mildly disturbed.

“Couldn’t take any chances.” Reyes shrugged.

A loud explosion rang from the airstrip, grabbing both of their attention. Reinhardt’s thruster on his armor revved,“Our work is not yet complete, Onward!” the German giant cried, charging down the road with Reyes in tow.

The smell of hot metal was the first thing that greeted his nostrils. The next was the smoke that filled his senses and churned in his chest. Reyes could feel the phantom burn roll up his back, and it took him a moment to steady his breathing. He ignored the persistent pain that crawled along his skin, and focused on the gunfire that rang across the airfield.

The limo was just scrap strewn on the airstrip. The vehicle had barely made it onto the airfield before being blown up. Jack had somehow managed to get himself and the client out of the limo in time, though Jack sported a bleeding arm to show for his effort. He was position behind Reinhardt’s energy shield, firing his pulse rifle at the incoming hostiles approaching from the buildings onto the runway.

Lena was already positioned with Jack to help protect the client. They were outnumbered by at least twenty men. But as thundering shots rained from the rooftops, the odds were quickly stacking in their favor.

‘Widowmaker’, as Amélie called herself, appeared to be firing from multiple angles. She moved around with her grappling hook with ease, as she’d hit the enemy midair before landing on another roof. Hidden from her position from the billboard Ana was firing off rounds from her own rifle, masking each shots with the thundering claps of Amélie's rifle. The older woman’s shots were premeditated, cleanly placed on the enemies’ heads. Amélie was more brutal: painfully fatal shots placed at the chest and jugular. Both of them divided their assailants’ attention.

Seizing the opportunity, Lena zipped like a lightning bolt from her position behind Reinhardt's failing shield. She easily dashed between the enemy, shooting her dual pulse pistols as she went. Flanking from behind the enemy, McCree was pushing their foes back with continuous fire of his revolver. Caught from multiple angles the enemy quickly found themselves routed; many began retreating toward the abandoned buildings.

Reyes moved like a wraith from the entrance of the runway. When the smoke dissipated around him, he continued his leisurely approach towards the remaining men. As if sensing his presences, some of the fleeing men turned toward him and fired. He allowed their bullets to rip through his form, tearing at his leather cloak. Reinhardt, who had moved from his position to cleave through the enemy with his hammer, turned toward him with his shield raised.

A cackle erupted from his lips, “Clearing the area!”

The mist that emanated from his body burst forth swirled around him. He began his death blossom with a continuous spin, firing and reloading his twin shotguns in maelstrom bullets and shells. In the cacophony of shotgun blasts and dying screams, Reyes caught sight of Jack’s masked face mid-spin. Even though he could not see the other’s expression, Reyes felt a pressure encompass his chest. It was a hollow feeling, gutting in how abrupt it had appeared.

After five seconds, Reyes ended his assault with a flourish. He holstered his shotguns at his waist with a huff. Around him lay the bullet ridden bodies of what was left in his wake. The pressure still roiled in his lungs.

“Whoa there, nice work!” Lena panted, blinking next to the hooded man, “Though a warning would have been nice: could’ve been Swiss-cheese like these blokes if I hadn’t recalled.”

Reyes just cracked his neck and silently left toward their drop-ship, bumping past Jack as he passed. Jack looked on perturbed before helping the client off the ground.

“Are you alright, Miss Viswani?”

The woman looked over her soiled white uniform with disgust, “I’m fine. Though this outcome was much more... _chaotic_ than what I previously predicted.”

“Yeah well when Vishkar had asked for protection, I wasn’t expecting to fight an army.” Jack replied rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

“Vishkar has acquired many enemies, Overwatch has performed it’s intended function and that is all that matters.”

The architect looked at the bloody appendage that held his rifle with a curl of her nose, before reaching into her breast pocket and handing the old soldier a handkerchief. Jack awkwardly took the cloth and pressed it to the wound on his bicep. Satya glared at how the older man was holding the cloth, and with a quick flick of her wrists, she provided a wrapping of hard-light energy around the wound.

“There.” she said with a bit of frustration, “Vishkar thanks your organization for your assistance in this matter. Overwatch will receive the rest of the payment within the week.” And with that, the woman turned on her heel, and entered the awaiting jet.

* * *

  
Back in their drop-ship, the rest of Omega team watched as Jack shouted at Reyes. Tracer was already in the cockpit, trying desperately to ignore the old soldier’s tirade as she flew them back to base. Amélie sat in silence in one of the flight chairs beside the pilot. For the rest of the team finding an escape was not as easy. Reinhardt tried to hum a little tune, while he busied himself with polishing his helmet. McCree sat at a little table near the ship’s hangar door stacking a deck of cards. To his left Ana was prepping a pot of tea at the little alcove in the wall.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Reyes rolled his eyes as Jack yelled at him, “You nearly killed all of us!”

“And I cleared out the enemy, the ‘living shield’ had you covered the whole time.”

“Yet you didn’t think to give us time to adapt! You’re just a selfish bastard!”

By now Jack had worked himself in to a rant, pacing back and forth in front of the cloaked man. Reyes would have shouted back at him, but he was still recovering from exhausting his powers. He let out a heavy sigh, and slouched a little more against the wall. The mere action angered Jack even further.

“You think this is a game? Gérard should have never convinced the board to hire you: you’ve always been a shady, to-bit murderer! You’ve never cared about anyone but yourself!”

Reyes groaned, “The mission was successful, Jack. We’re mercenaries, the danger’s in the job description.”

“Friendly-fire is not in the job description!” Jack countered.

Reyes had had enough of the other man’s shouting. With a little more effort than was necessary, he made his way over to the alcove where McCree and Ana had been seated, and sat down at the table. McCree uncomfortably nodded at the other man, while Ana poured herself a cup of tea.

“I’m going to have a few words with the board about this, you can count on it!” Jack shouted And with that, Jack stormed up to the cockpit.

Ana waited until Jack had finally seated himself before chuckling and preparing another cup. Handing it to Reinhardt she glanced at Reyes, noting his slouched in his seat.

“Are you alright, Gabe?” she asked, putting a hand to his arm.

Reyes flinched at the touched, though it was gentle. Even through the leather of his armor, the pressure of the older woman’s touch was soothing.

“Just tired of Jack’s complaining...things never change, huh?”

In truth, his muscles pulsating, and his skin burned. Ever fresh breath he took set alight a fire in his lungs. Without the pills on hand, it took some time fore effects of his powers to become manageable on their own. He could not tell of Ana believed his weak explanation, but she at the very least accepted it.

“He just get's anxious during these types of missions: this team is our family.” Ana explained, handing a cup over to him, “It once was, and still can be, yours as well.”

Reyes took the cup and just stared at the hot liquid in his gloved hands. He observed his own reflection; his skull masked glared back at him. Though it had been years ago where he would once call Overwatch his family. The level of camaraderie was something that he had never felt with Talon. It was business that drove Talon, and he had been fine with that. The prospect of be accepted back into that family he had left all those years ago just seemed unfathomable.

“Maybe.”

Yet Reyes secretly held some hope in that prospect, and that bothered him the most.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a little longer than usual, and it's been years since I've written an action scene. I'm not too sure about how I feel about this one, but I hope it excuses the long wait.  
> Schools started up again, So I'll try and upload the next chapter in a more timely manner (no promises though).
> 
> Anyway, critique and general comments are appreciated.


	5. Dull Feelings

Reyes ignored the cool metal of the stethoscope on his chest, his attention drawn uncomfortably on the blond in front of him. As he drew in a deep breath, he observed Angela’s eyes narrow as she searched for a heartbeat. He exhaled slowly frowning at the remorseful expression on the doctor’s face.

“No heartbeat.” The doctor said with some disappointment.

“I could have told you that.” Reyes stated flatly.

Angela remained silent at man’s comment and took his wrist into her hand. Her thumb softly rubbing his pulse point for a moment before lightly pressing her thumb and index finger to his pulse. Reyes could only see the top of her head, but he could envision her brow scrunching up with determination, and he awkwardly if not reluctantly accepted the comforting gesture. She busied herself in her search, but the two both knew what the woman would find.

“Nothing.” Angela said, before writing some notes on her clipboard. She looked more discouraged at the reality of what that meant than simply the mere existence, or lack there of: Gabriel Reyes was clinically dead. With no heartbeat nor pulse, his very being was a medical mystery. A mystery She felt in part responsible for.

Reyes’ condition had been much worse after his accident and Angela had done everything in her power to save him; to salvage what was left of his broken body. Her experimentation in resurrection were still in it’s infant stages, focusing on a combination of chemical and nanotechnologies. Even with great strides and successes, she was still far from perfecting the process when she got the call. In that instant: years of development and research were all brought to bare in a single day. Seeing the consequences of her actions were sobering to say the least.

She forced herself to look into Reyes’ eyes, her deep sadness evident in her expression. Reyes stared back at her with a distant gaze. His sight was beyond her, it was beyond the very room; His gaze was vacant and cold.

After a few seconds of silence she wordlessly let go of his wrist moving away to the counter top across from the examination table, and began rummaging through one of the drawers. Reyes looked down at his wrist feeling the phantom sensation of the doctor’s hand.

“Do you still have fits of pain?” She asked as she searched through the drawer.

“Sometimes when I push myself.” Reyes admitted, watching the woman briefly still before returning to rummaging through the cabinet.

It took her a couple of minutes but Angela eventually found what she was looking for, and returned to Reyes with a bottle of greenish pills. She handed the container off to the old mercenary, explaining as he inspected its contents behind the plastic.

“This is some new medication I had some colleagues develop before you came back. It’s much more potent than the dosages I’ve been proscribing you for the last couple of year. But I believe it should dull the pain when you have to use the full extent of your condition.”

Reyes looked from the bottle of pills back to the doctor. He held some reservations at taking whatever it was the doctor gave to him. It took him months to even begin taking the medication when he had first left Overwatch: mysterious packages always seemed to pop up wherever Talon stationed him. It was not that he did not know who was sending them as the sender address was always from some Overwatch outpost.

For the most part Reyes just refused to keep any connection with the organization, and the packages were just a reminder of what he left behind. He had only started taking them when the doctor also sent letters, mostly impersonal ones attached to each bottle. It felt strange to actually be handed the medication in person for once.

In the end Reyes shrugged, “It’s not like this could make me any deader.” he pocketing the bottle and began putting his sweater back on.

Angela flinched at the man’s words, as if each letter physically stung her. Reyes momentarily paused, watching as the doctor just as quickly recovered from his jab. The comforting energy and spirit that Angela possessed always seemed to ebb away in these moments when they were alone together, replaced by overwhelming tension.

The two stayed in relative silence with Angela began putting away her equipment, and Reyes adjusting his top. After a minute of straightening his sweater, Reyes got up from the table with his boots hitting the ground a little louder than what he intended.

“I’ll be around.” Reyes grunted, moving toward the door.

Angela called back to him just as he was halfway through the door, “Call me anytime you have any problems with the new medication.” She paused, “And be safe Reyes.”

Stepping out of the infirmary, Reyes was greeted by A na  casually leaning on the wall across from the  doorway . She smiled  and  wav ed at Angela before the door closed  fully behind him . Reyes let out a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck, “ Gérard want me for something?”

Since the mission in Greece the board had started sending him on solo operations, usually require some oversight. It was more technical work, mostly he was hired for search and destroy missions, but it did require him to be on call when the need arose.

Ana chuckled with a knowing grin, “Can’t an old woman come to chat with an old friend?”

“I’m not old...” Reyes huffed.

Ana caught the other man’s small  smirk , “Oh trust me, I would know; you’d think being sixty would behold some type of wisdom.” She pointed at the eye-patch  on her right eye, “Instead I have aching bones, wrinkles, and  a missing eye to show for it.”

Reyes had to chuckle along with the older woman.  They had known each other for  fifteen years;  along with Jack the three met while  fighting in the Omnic Crisis  with the United Nations,  and when that was done  joining Overwatch  international at Gérard's  request . It had been just the four of them during those distant days: Ana, Reyes, Gérard, and  Morrison .  Although he did his best to not reminisce, Reyes had to at least admit those times were not all bad.

“So what brings an old soldier like you to this neck of the woods?” Reyes asked, already feeling the tension leave his body.

“I was just walking through the base, and  remembered that tour I promised you:  up for a little walk? ” If Ana could wink, Reyes was sure she would  have in that moment . Reyes feigned a look of contemplation  at the old woman’s request  before  Ana nudged him with her shoulder, “Of course you  are ,  attbaeani .”

Reyes followed the old sniper as she lead them through the base. It did not take long for Ana to begin joking with her old friend.  As they traveled through the corridors and rooms, the pair shared back and forth banter that even caused the usually stoic Reyes to laugh.  Ana in all her wit had a calming affect on him.

“I have to say Reyes, you’re looking pretty good in your fifty’s.”

 

“Like some dashing young rogue?” Reyes  joked with a grin .

Ana rolled her eyes, “More like a menacing grump. When are you going to grow a respectable beard?”

“ When hell finally freezes, Ana.” Reyes stated while stroking his goatee. 

Ana paused for a moment in thought, inspecting the man’s face briefly. She continued, “You know I think you’re the reason Jesse looks the way he does.”

Reyes scoffed at the idea  nearly offended at the mere consideration, “I would never support  his weird cowboy obsession.”

“No, no I mean why he grew that scruffy beard of his.” Ana explained, “He looked handsome clean shaven, even if that’s hard to believe.”

“More like a kid back then, still acts like one now, but what does that have to do with me?”

“He always looked up to you after you took him from the “Dead rocks”, or some such.”

“Deadlocks, Ana.” He corrected. Though he rarely thought on it, McCree had grown into a rougher, wiser man since he had left.

The Deadlocks were still around, terrorizing and stealing out in the America mid-west. Early on when Reyes had taken the younger man under his wing he had fully expected Jesse to rejoin the gang at some point. But Jesse had stayed with Overwatch all the same. Even when Reyes had offered him a higher paying position at Talon, the other man had declined with a smirk.

_Can’t exactly leave the team behind, y’know?_

More than a little sentimental, but he supposed Jesse had finally settle down where he belonged. Even in his anger at the time, Reyes could understand that.

“Anyway, that little vagabond may have cop p ed my style, but he will never look as good as the original.” Ana laughed at that. 

The time they spent walking through Gibraltar was filled with the occasional introduction to some new location, followed by some risque off-hand comment by the older woman. It was as if all the years Reyes had been away were like empty space the two between two friends. Yet that time gap did rear it’s head between the two on more than one occasion.

“ My daughter’s coming to the base to visit later tonight; She’s on vacation and wanted  to  come by for a time.”

Reyes smirked, “That little twerp? I haven’t seen her in I don’t know how long. How is she?”

“ Fine I suppose, Though I haven’t talked to her in months.  Fareeha’s grown into such a beautiful woman, though I don’t approve of her occupation...”

“I mean she adored you and nearly worshiped the rest of us; it was only a matter of time before she went into the private sector. Who’d she join up with anyway?”

“Helix Security  International . Not a bad choice compared to other P rivate Military Contractors .” Ana sai d with a sly grin, yet all  her  mirth was gone.

Reyes caught the dig and shrugged his shoulders, “Well if it’d make you feel any better I’ve known the little squirt since she was twelve; If she’d ever put in a resume with Talon, I’d block her request one way or another.”

Ana let out a  low c huckle, “I  appreciate the  gesture , though with her sense of moral s she’d never join up with Talon  anyway .” Reyes returned a small chuckle  in agreement , though he could sense the tension mounting. 

Fareeha had always been a sensitive topic to approach when speaking to the older woman. Ana would do her best to accept her daughters life choices, though she had been keen on  steering her toward less dangerous work  when she was younger . From the looks of it, Reyes could surmise it had placed  some strain  on the pair’s relationship.

“ In any case she’s an adult now: she can make her own decisions.” Ana dismissed the subject with a hand wave.

T he pair stayed silent, walking to an open cliff side and looking over the Mediterranean. A warm breeze swept up from the ocean as the pair watched waters turned to a darken with the sky. Stars were already shining in the dark purple sky as day turned to night. It was a calming view, and Reyes took a breath  of  the salty scent of the sea. As the sky completed to it’s nightly transition, a thought crossed his mind.  It was one he found himself having more than he would like nowadays, but it was as persistent as it was unpleasant.

Reyes turned to Ana pausing for a brief moment, “You ever wonder why Jack’s still an asshole?”

He knew he could have phrased that better. Yet he hoped the older woman would in part understand what he meant even through his vulgarity. Ana let out a sigh, opening he good eye and gazing out over the waters.

“You haven’t been any better Gabriel.” Ana said in almost a whisper, “We still remember you before the accident. You were more careful back then: you cared more about life. Sure you’ve always had you’re rough edges, but not like this… _thing_ you make yourself out to be. I still see you as who you once were; who you still are. Jack just can’t see that right now and with the way you’ve been acting, it’s hard to see Gabriel Reyes under all the bloodshed.”

Reyes stayed silent as he let her words sink in. He knew she was telling him the truth, he trusted Ana more than he would vocalize to anyone else. Yet it was still hard accepting all the things he already knew. Changing himself for the better was a foreign concept Reyes had put little thought into.

As if sensing his dilemma, Ana put a hand on his shoulder,“You should still hope for the best, Gabe.”

“I’m not an optimist like you, Ana.”

The two stood at looking across the ocean until the stars were fully out in the sky. When Reyes had decided it was time to go home, they resumed their leisurely walk through the base and out the lobby. The cold humid night air was the first thing that hit the old soldiers as the entered the bases parking lot. The second was the sight of Amélie leaning casually against a black sedan with a duffel-bag at her side.

She held a book in her hand, a french one Reyes had seen her read countless times before: L’Étranger. It was dreary little tale she seemed quite fond of. Reyes did not see much entertainment in it however. He supposed it was a cultural thing. Though what was more interesting was the spry Brit that stood next to her, talking a mile-a-minute. Amélie would nod occasionally, even give a small smirk at something Lena said causing the other girl to blush. From the corner of his eye Reyes noted the steel gaze on Ana’s face as they approached the two, but when they had gotten the pairs attention it was gone.

“ Evening, Captain!”  Lena greeted with a cheery smile and a salute.

Amélie closed her book and instead nodded at the pair. Ana smiled at the Brit and put her at ease, “Lena please, it’s after hours, and you don’t really have to address me like that anyway.”

“Oh um, sorry Captain—I mean Ana—force of habit.”  Lena stammered. Ana only smirked at the younger girl.

“Seeing our comrades off for the night,  then ?” Ana pried, while Reyes fished his keys from his pocket and unlocked the sedan.

“Yeah.” Though Lena’s eyes watched dejected as Amélie picked up her duffel bag to get into the passengers seat.

Seeing the sullen look on the girls face, Ana wrapped an arm around Lena’s shoulder and directed her back toward the base, “Oh don’t have such a sad look. Tell you what: I’ll cook us up some dinner. My treat.”

From the passenger’s seat Amélie watched the two retreating forms through the passenger’s window walk through the parking lot with a bored expression. Reyes simply put his keys in the ignition and backed out of their parking space. Cruising over to the gated entrance, Amélie reached into the duffel bag she had placed at her feet to retrieve a cigarette box and lighter. Placing one of the sticks into her mouth, she was about to light the end when she heard a knock on the passenger window.

Outside of the car stood Lena, slightly out of breath with her hands on her knees. Amélie rolled the window down and waited for the girl to catch her breath, “Uh sorry for stopping you lot like this,” She said more towards Reyes, who had shot her an annoyed look.

“It’s fine,” Amélie said nonchalantly lighting the end of her cigarette.

Lena paused watching the end of the stick light up, illuminating the pale woman’s face, “Oh You smoke?”

“Is that why you stopped us?”

“No, no, no that’s not it! Sorry. I was just wondering if you, uh, would like to—when you’re not busy—go out for a kip at a local pub sometime? After hours I mean!” Lena flustered, her face redder than when she had rushed to the car.

Amélie took a long draw from her cigarette, blowing out a stream of smoke. Lena watched almost entranced by the action. Reyes just turned on the air conditioning with a frown. Amélie inspected the tip of the cigarette, “Je suppose que j’ai pu, sure.”

Lena’s face lit up with beaming smile, and Reyes rolled his eyes at the girl’s excitement.

“Alright! I guess we could come up with a time later, how’s this Saturday sound?”

Amélie pointed a finger at the open bar gate in front of the car, “later.”

“Right sorry, I guess we’ll talk about it later.”

Taking a step away from the car, the pair jetted passed the Brit and started their long drive back to their apartment. Amélie took drag of her cigarette, while Reyes glanced at her with a toothy grin, “’Ooh la la.’”

“Se taire.”

  


What had been the most difficult part of their situation was just finding an affordable apartment close enough to commute to base. Reyes had been very adamant on the matter. While Gibraltar was one of the few deployment bases with on site living facilities, Reyes had been vehemently opposed to taking up private quarters.

“I’d rather keep my work and personal shit separate,” He had begrudgingly explained. Amélie could at least agree with the sentiment; that, and the fact that living expenses took a considerable portion out of their contractual salaries.

It was a rather small apartment, two bedrooms, one bathroom, and a kitchenette.  In one  side of the room on  an overturned milk crate  stood a small TV, barely used, and by the windowsill  in the kitchen that  overlooking the city was a radio receiver; more than well used. As soon as Reyes walked into the apartment, he went directly to the kitchenette and turned on the radio. He  changed the channel to some classical flamenco  and proceeded to grab a beer from the ir small  fridge. Amélie came up to the apartment  minutes later carrying some letters, and a single rose.

Reyes eyed the rose with caution, noting the purple tint of the petals and de-thorned stem.  He did not have to guess who sent the romantic gift, nor what Amélie was going to do with the flower next. Without hesitation and with a practiced motion, the woman placed the letters on the kitchen counter  and p ut the rose in a glass-vase, the rim of the vase a smudged black. retriev ing a lighter from her pants pocket,  Reyes watched as Amélie lit the top of the rose and let the flames consume the petals with each passing second.

“ Très têtu .” Amélie scolded the withering plant as the fire was snuffed at the lip of the vase.

Reyes took a swig of the bottle in his hand and sat on the long couch against the wall next to the kitchenette, smelling the remnants of the burnt flower as Amélie opened a window. He silently watched Amélie take her duffel bag she had left at the door, and place it into her room before locking the door behind her. For a minute, all the sound that could be heard throughout the apartment was the sound of the Spanish guitar on the radio:

  
“ _Usted está escuchando Radio Paraíso: oasis lejos de los problemas del ahora_. ”

When She final left her room, Amélie had gotten out of her off-duty fatigues into a pair of sweatpants, and tank top. Her  face  was unreadable as she walked over to the fridge and procured herself a beer bottle.  Reyes made some space for her on the couch, and slid next to him with her legs  crossed on the cushion .  Her knee pressed into the other’s thigh.

“ You know you’re legs are pretty long.”

Amélie looked to her partner and raised an eyebrow, “Do you make it a habit of stating the obvious?”

Reyes huffed,  trying to find a more comfortable position, “Come on move you’re long legs a little.”

At the other’s behest she positioned herself so her head was resting on an armrest while the rest of her lower body was laying across his lap, “Better?” she teased with a menacing smirk.

Reyes gave her  a  long sideways glance before downing the rest of his beer. Placing the empty bottle on the floor, he reached over the woman’s body and tried to snatch the opened beer bottle in her hand. Amélie anticipated this, and press ing her legs down on the man’s thighs so that he couldn’t get in a better position. She extended her arm further from the man’s reach.

“ Bad spider woman: no  beer for petulant children.”  Reyes strained.

“Look who’ s talking.”

After two minutes of trying to wrestle the woman, Reyes stopped to catch his breath. Amélie still held a condescending smirk as she took a swig from the bottle. He thought for a moment and with a huff, Reyes took off his sweater as Amélie watched with mild interest. Wrapping the garment underneath the woman’s knees with some effort, he managed to get both of the sweater’s sleeves in one hand. Using the sweater as a hammock, he began lifting the sniper’s legs with one hand while reaching for the beer bottle with the other. 

“Cheater.” Amélie hissed, as Reyes loo med over her.

“‘Resourceful’ is the word you’re looking for.”

He had just gotten his index finger around the neck of the bottle before there was a knock at the apartment door. The couch was lower than the counter that separated  it from the kitchen, so with a sigh Reyes lift ed himself a little just to look at the door. Seizing the opportunity Amélie freed one of her legs and hooked her knee around the man’s neck, flipping Reyes onto the floor with the sniper sitting on his chest.

“Now who’s the cheater?” Reyes grunted, as moved to get off the floor.

Another knock rapped on the door, causing Reyes to bark for the person to hold on.  Amélie l eaned forward on the counter-top and watched Reyes open the door.

“ Bonsoir , Reyes.” Gérard greeted from the other side of the door.  Reyes watched as the man slowly retracted his hand from his hip.

“Gérard.” Reyes replied immediately putting himself on guard.

Gérard looked with curiosity at the man’s bare chest, before looking  back at Reyes with a questioning look, “I hope I wasn’t interrupting anything… may I come in?”

Reyes cautiously placed himself between the man and the inside of the apartment, using his broad shoulders to block the man’s view. He crossed his arms over his bare chest, fixing Gérard with a stern look, “What do you want Lacroix? If it’s business—”

“Non. I would wait for tomorrow morning to discuss something of that nature.”  Gérard  reasoned with a humorless chuckle, “You don’t have to be so intimidating after work Reyes.”

Reyes looked the man up and down; his brown hair was combed over, and he wore a blue colored polo and cream colored shorts. It was a more casual look than his more business like attire, but his outfit still looked precise like every piece of clothing was meticulously chosen with an intended purpose. It definitely contrasted to Reyes’ black cargo pants, bare chest, and boots.

“I’m always like this,  Gérard.”  Reyes stated with his usual bluntness, “ So why  _ are _ you here?”

For once the smile that  Gérard had managed throughout their entire exchange faltered, and the re was a  moments hesitance. He r an a hand over his hair, and took a breath, “I wanted to see if Amélie might be home.”

“ Let him in, Reyes.” Amélie called from her place at the counter.

Reyes wordlessly took a step aside as  Gérard  took a step into the apartment. The first thing  he  noticed was Amélie, leaning forward on the counter top enough where her cleavage was visible.  It Took him moment to process the situation: Reyes standing half dressed beside him, and Amélie in ruffled sweat-wear.  Fully accessing the situation,  Gérard’ s false smile was placed back on his face and he greeted Amélie with a cool air, “ You look well,  Amélie.  Comment  vas -tu ?”

“ J’ai été mieux. ” Amélie stated with the same coolness, she quietly took a sip from the bottle nestled in her hand.

Gérard  calmly strolled to the counter top, and casually leaned on the counter next to the woman. He noticed her amber eyes watch his every move, and he sent her calm smile. He observed the tension in the woman’s jaw, the smooth skin held taut.

He  chuckled, “ Si j’ai eu la prévoyance, j’aurais apporté votre bouteille préférée. ”

Amélie’ s eyes narrowed at him, “Why did you come here,  Gérard?”

For a moment the linguistic switch caught him off guard,  but  Gérard  recovered nonetheless, “I wanted to ask if you were free this Saturday. I could take you to a nice restaurant; we could talk.”

“I have already made plans for this Saturday, my apologies.”  Amélie  stated flatly, rolling the bottle around  in one hand .

This statement had definitely caught him by surprised. His eyebrows flew up with an unasked question, and Amélie stared back at him with a blank expression. She refused to entertain the man any further; even  Gérard  could see that. So, as he did every time they parted,  Gérard  looked back into  Amélie’ s eyes and asked  her  one simple question, “ Est-ce que tu veux que je parte ?”

“ Oui .”  Amélie  answered in a whisper. 

So with that single word leaving her lips,  Gérard  straightened up and walked out of the apartment with a sullen smile, passing Reyes who was still stationed near the door, “ Bonne n uit, Amélie. Good night Reyes.” 

Reyes went to close the door behind the other man, and when he turned around, Amélie rose from her position at the counter-top and walked for her room, “You’ve earned your beer.” she  said back before closing the door behind her.

Left alone in the apartment, Reyes poured out the rest of the beer and started to clean the apartment. Not a single sound could be hear from the woman’s room, and so he presumed she had gone to sleep. The radio was the last to be turned off.

“ _ El amor en lo más profundo de su alma. paraíso de radio: la música del alma— _ ”

  


With the lights off, and completely in the dark, Reyes stared blankly at the ceiling. The outline of the ceiling light was a single shadow that hung over him. He remained motionless, body restless, eyes unburdened by sleep. He was still left topless with his cargo shorts still on his body, and the protruding container still in his pocket.  He tried to keep his mind of f the bottle of pills in his pocket, reluctant put the new concoction inside of him. He had had a long day anyway, at least he could allow his thought to wonder though aimless as they were.

He felt his right pocket buzz, and he pulled out his phone and glared at the glowing screen. It was all a bleary mess as he squinted at the number, and failing to determine who it was, answered the call anyway.

“Who the hell is this?” He growled, if it was some prank call he swore—

There was a brief shuffle of what sounded like covers followed by an incoherent whisper. Reyes was annoyed, hearing the muffled sound of sheets being moved, “Listen it’s too late for this crap.” Reyes stated flatly, poised to press the off button.

“Reyes?” It was a woman’s voice, and his eyes widened at who he was speaking to.

“Why the hell are you calling me, Ziegler?” Reyes asked, less concerned with how the doctor had managed to get his number.

For a moment there was another rustling of covers, followed by what sounded like a distant whine.  Angela spoke again, though her words were broken up and directed someplace else.

“I’m sorry... später werde ich... n ur eine  minute…” It was a minute later before Angela was back on the phone sounding particularly breathless, “Sorry Reyes, I was just calling to make sure you had taken your medication before bed.”

Reyes groaned and looked at the time on his phone, “It’s one in the morning, and you call me for that?”

Ziegler’s tone was more authoritative, “I know you well enough, Reyes. You’d much rather avoid taking your medicine if I left it up to you.”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve lecturing me Ziegler.” Reyes growled.

There was another pause on the phone, while Angela spoke to the other person on her end, “No, stay over there, this is important.”

Reyes scoffed at the woman, “Not important enough where you’ll stop fucking it seems.”

“I’m doing no such thing!” There was a pause as their was the sound of a mattress bending, “Please, Reyes: I’m calling as a...friend. Not as your doctor.”

Reyes mulled over the doctor’s request. He gripped the bottle though his cargo pants, hearing the pills shift in their container. He just couldn’t bring himself to put the wretched things inside of him. At least not while he was sober.

“I’ll take them.” Reyes lied.

Angela took a moment to process his answer, trying to detect Reyes’ lie. After a second, she finally relented, “Thank you. Don’t forget to call if something goes amiss.”

There was another pause as Reyes could hear faint laughter on the other end before the call ended. Reyes rolled his eyes and let his phone lay on the mattress beside him.  He continued to stare at the ceiling light until dawn broke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> اتبعني (attbaeani): "Follow me"  
> This took some time to write: exams, projects, and resumes have all got me preoccupied as of late.  
> (also have you seen the Witch Mercy skin? I want all of that. In my face. bppbpbpbbpbpbpbpbpb)  
> I wanted to make sure this chapter was more substantial. I tried showing more character interactions and some development, though I'm not sure how well I did. Reyes is a big grump cannon-wise, and I wanted to show some levity with him as well as Amelie. You all are getting this after three hours worth studying and very little food, so I hope you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> I wanted to also address something of note: I do take the critiques into account, and I wanted to thank Iaoha for their comment; I took no offense to your comment and I'm trying to be a lot more careful in how I want to address Reyes' and Jack's relationship. I don't hate 76, and I don't hate Reaper, I just thought about how realistically you would have two old soldiers deal with their feelings for one another. It's all coming of as bitter,however, and that shouldn't be all they are. Again thank you for your critique.


	6. All In Your Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was originally a part of a longer chapter, but I felt it was more effective on it's own.

One of the many advantages of working for Overwatch was the many training facilities in and around their forward operation bases. Gibraltar was no exception even if it’s facilities were smaller than most. It was mandatory that agents commit to their own personal training regiment. Though the policy was relatively lax, it did not stop everyone from taking their hours seriously. Most of the other agents came from military backgrounds, and so held some time in their schedule for working out. 

Reyes did not mind the required hours himself, choosing to take full advantage of the training facilities twenty-four hour operation. Though he kept a regular training routine off base, Reyes found the lone early morning work outs calming. It was an early morning on a Friday, and Reyes knew that many of the other agents wouldn’t be up until much later in the day. 

Sitting at a bench press Reyes lifted the barbell at a steady rhythm, lifting the bar up and down in single fluid motion. He ignored the slight burn in his arms choosing instead to focus on his repetition. It was simple, redundant, almost soothing in the way the weights clattered on each side of the barbell. He was thirty minutes in when he heard the doors to the gym creek open. Reyes did not bother to look to see who had walked in, and chose to listen to the other person in the room.

At first the other person paused in their shuffling, most likely observing Reyes as he continued in his workout. After a second the other person continued on with their business, walking down the line of machines until they situated themselves at a station. Judging by the his of the hydraulic valves of the machine, Reyes guessed it was one of the leg presses. He shrugged off the distraction and redirected his attention to the hum of the muscle in arms.

The two continued on in silence, working on their own routines; The clatter of weights synchronize in their own unique cacophony. After ten straight minutes Reyes let his eyes wonder over to his new training partner: pale skin marred by scars stretched over muscled arms and legs with trimmed hair sat atop an aging head. Reyes remembered when that scared flesh was rough but clean. He remembered thinking of them as lovely once; that skin in it’s coarseness. Now the landscapes of those arms were rugged not unlike his own. It was the price they paid with the work that they did, but having a moment to reflect did bring back glimpses of happier times.

_Messy blond hair shining in early morning sunlight. The gentle touch of calloused fingers combing through his curls. Hooded eyes glowing with admiration—_

It was only Morison’s cold blue eyes that halted Reyes’ observations, but Reyes refused to look away.

Maybe it was his pride that made him stare, but even in his hubris Reyes could not stop remembering how those eyes had carried a sense of kindness… even compassion. He could see the hardened look of annoyance in the other man’s eyes mixed with the hints of hesitance. But from what he was reluctant to venture a guess.

Morrison held on to their gaze for only a second, yet it felt like an eternity to Reyes. With a grunt the aging soldier looked back at his feet as he continued with his reps. Something in the distaste in the other’s voice: the utter disgust, gave him pause. Their interaction had not been any different than how they had treated each other since he had come back. The same level of distrust had been the reason Reyes had left Overwatch all those years ago. 

It was then that he realized the barbell was still lowered close to his chest. Reyes looked back up to the ceiling, slowly returning to lifting the weights.

_“How could you?”  
“I was finishing what we started!”_

Yet the breath that had escaped Morrison’s lips was ghosting through his ears. The sound of annoyance, no; revulsion, plagued the back of Reyes’ mind. He sped up his reps, trying to escape the sound that replayed in his ears. He took a moment to close his eyes and took in a deep breath. It was a brief reprieve, but the memories slowly began flooding back in full force:

_“..._ _It didn’t have to go this far_ _!”  
“Hey! Don’t look away from me!”_

_Don’t look away._ _Don’t you dare look away._ _Don’t lea—_

When he opened his eyes, Reyes could see a black mist cloud the halogen lights of the gym’s ceiling. Placing the barbell back on the rack, he sat up letting out a torrent of coughs each coming out in a puff of black smoke. In reality it was his body acting on reflex; he knew that the smoke pouring from his mouth would subside eventually. Reyes slowly calmed himself, as he slouched on the bench with his hands on his knees.

All throughout this ordeal, Reyes failed to hear the locking of the leg press above his choked breath. His eyes were burning, and he could feel plumes of smoke seep from the corners of his eyes every time he attempted to blink them away.

“Reyes?”

The hesitance. It tinged the edges of the other’s voice. The concern that bordered caution; it filled his deadened veins with fire. 

“What?” Reyes hissed out glaring at the hand extended toward him. He should have had more control, he _tried_ to have more control, but the words burned out with a puff of smoke. Whatever control he had was focusing on the blurry shape of curled fingers.

Everything was a blur. Morrison’s body was a fuzzy shape veiled by smoke. But if Reyes had been able to, he would have seen the pained expression of worry crossing his face. The worried confusion was quickly followed by annoyance, and Morrison retracted his hand with a growl.

“Get yourself together.” Morrison murmured, picking up his water bottle and marching out through the gym doors. 

Reyes was left alone to steady himself with the pain in his chest.


	7. The little things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which a Cowboy makes some things a little more bearable.

Reyes sat in the base’s cafeteria with a bowl of oatmeal in front of him, or what could have been considered a failed attempt at creating oatmeal. The edges were crusted to the sides of the bowl, and the bottom of the sludge had somehow burned. 

He would have left the base earlier to get some real sustainable, but after his incident in the gym it had taken him more than a few hours to gain some level of composure. By that point it was just better to stay on base than take the hours drive back into the city.  
“Mind if I sit down here fer a spell?”

Reyes let out an aggravated groan and watched as McCree took a seat next to him without waiting for a response. He went back to sloshing the sludge in the bowl in front of him with his spoon. McCree glanced at his bowl and then back at Reyes’ face.

“Yer look’n a bit tired there, ol’man.” Reyes quickly flicked his gaze up to the cowboy, before taking a spoonful of the oatmeal into his mouth. It tasted absolutely awful.

“Saw Jack earlier with a sour look. Don’t suppose ya know what snuck in his boot now, would ya?”

Reyes shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know and I don’t care.”

McCree hummed and leaned back in his chair with hands behind his head. Reyes was begrudgingly fine with the cowboy’s company until he started whistling. He remembered vaguely the tune from an old western he had shown the cowboy many years ago.

In hindsight one could say that it was a fitting decision to bring a western obsessed teen an old Cowboy film. Reyes would have said it was the worst decision he had ever made in his life. To add salt into the wound was McCree knew just how much Reyes despised the movie, especially the soundtrack. It started with the most annoying high pitched note that Reyes had ever heard, and McCree had perfected it to a T.

“McCree I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work.”

The cowboy continued with his whistling with more gusto with the following verse. Reyes rolled his spoon in the stiffening oats in his bowl, trying desperately to ignore the cowboy’s shrill whistling. He would not let the smart-ass cowboy get to him. He would not let the smart-ass cowboy get to him. He would not.

“Jesse, I swear on my grave I will shove my boot so far...”

Unfortunately Reyes never did have the tolerance for old western music. With a sly grin McCree watched as the older man put a hand to his temple. He made sure to end his whistle on a high note just so he could savor the death glare he sent in his direction. McCree just winked at him and tipped up his hat.

Reyes let out a sigh, “We had an altercation in the gym.” For a moment McCree shot him a worried look, but Reyes dismissed his concern, “It wasn’t physical. It was… I don’t know what the hell it was.”

If he could honest with himself, Reyes knew that on some level the entire incident was his fault. All the anger inside him bubbled up in an instant, and her could still feel the mist plumes escape his throat and eyes. At least at moment, he was calm; aggravated at a certain cowboy, but calmer none the less.

There was a brief silence as McCree listened and mulled over what he was just told. After some consideration, he set himself straight in his chair and started rummaging through his pockets. Reyes paid little attention to the other’s fumbling, and just continued stirring the gray slop in his bowl.

“Want some?”

Reyes glared at the small packet of sunflower seeds in the other’s hand. McCree rolled his eyes, “This is just t’get the taste of that dirt out of yer mouth; no need t’eyeball it like that.”

“It’s just that you got a weird fascination with putting shit in your mouth.”

“Well Angela’s been get’n on my case about smoke’n in the morning… So we settled on a compromise.”

Reyes had to smirk at that explanation, causing the cowboy to blush. He attempted to lower his hat to cover his face, but Reyes had already seen his cheeks.

“Careful there, Cowboy: some hombre off the street would think ya got yerself a crush.” Reyes chuckled menacingly.

McCree shook his head, “Now listen here ya ol’dog: Angela’s a lovely gal—”

“Oh I’m sure she is.”

“Hey! Anyway, she’s—uh, well um...”

“Just spit it out.” Reyes had had just about enough of the cowboy’s run around. McCree had lost some steam however. He grasped for the right words, a cold sweat forming on the back of his neck. Eventually he took a deep breath and popped some sunflowers seeds in his mouth. Reyes raised an eyebrow, but McCree chewed for a few moments before spitting out a seed into a napkin.

“Well?”

“She likes birds.” McCree deadpanned.

For a solid minute Reyes stared back at the cowboy with a befuddled expression; more confused than angry at the man’s statement. McCree just continued chewing on the pulverized seeds in his mouth.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“She really likes birds.” McCree reiterated, pulling his hat further over his face. Reyes leaned back in his chair, trying to decipher the cowboy’s cryptic statement. Angela was always happy for company, and from what he could recall she appreciated whenever Ana would come talk to her. Back in the day the two would talk often. He remembered Angela would blush a lot around her.

“She’s a lesbian? You were so nervous to just say that?”

McCree cursed under his breath, “N-not just that...” he motioned toward the other side of the cafeteria.

Reyes looked over to where the cowboy was pointing. On the other side of the cafeteria was the doctor looking talking with Ana at a table, engrossed in conversation. Next to Angela sat a tall woman, with brown skin and a making on her right eye; a wadjet tattoo under her right eye similar to Ana’s. If she wasn’t wearing the golden beads in her hair from her youth, Reyes would have never recognized Fareeha.

She had a smile on her face, but her body was stiff with her back ram-rod straight. Reyes supposed it was because of her upbringing: Ana was a military mom. But under closer inspection from his angle he could see under to their table, just enough to see where one Angela’s hand was placed. At that moment the metaphorical light bulb flashed on.

“McCree, I could go for some of those seeds right about now.”

 

After the initial shock had subsided, Reyes for all his composure could not stop chuckling under his breath. He must have looked like a maniac to those around him but he could care less. McCree on the other hand was too busy trying to hide the blush on his cheeks. The two certainly made an interesting sight at the outdoor shooting range.

“So let me get this straight: Ziegler’s been seeing her “little friend” for how long?”

“Jeez Reyes, I don’t know,” McCree said as he uncomfortably fumbled putting his rounds in the cylinder of his revolver, “A few weeks or months. I don’t make it a habit of look’n into the doctor’s business.”

Reyes just grunted, still trying to wrap his mind around the entire situation. Ziegler was a protege medical student when she first joined Overwatch. Instead of taking residence at a hospital, Overwatch had offered her a residency to be mentored by one of their medical staff. She must have been seventeen at the time, while Fareeha was twelve. They saw each other often back then, and they hung around each other often throughout Fareeha’s sporadic visits over the years.

“Who do you think had the crush on whom?” Reyes pondered.

“I dunno. Wasn’t ever really close t’Angie back then,” McCree shrugged, “Shit when I joined up, Angela hated my guts.”

McCree took a moment to aim down his sights and take some shots down range. Two to the body, one in the head, “That was sloppy.” Reyes commented from his position behind the gunslinger.

McCree straightened readjusted his grip and took two shots, each bullet planting itself into the throat area of the target. Better Reyes supposed.

“Why ya got an interest in know’n anyway?” McCree asked, peering over his shoulder. Reyes gave him a shrug with a chuckle, and McCree just went back to shooting.

“In any case, how could I not find this entire thing funny,” Reyes laughed, “Ana used to show me pictures of Fareeha in diapers for pete’s sake.”

McCree finally let out a chuckle under his breath while Reyes calmed himself. Fareeha, strong and as stoic as she had become, was still an adorable little mess in Reyes’ eyes. Peering over to the benches next to the range, McCree observed a purple skinned woman walk from her lane in standard issue fatigues followed by a bubbly Brit.

“Speak’n of a funny pair,” McCree nodded in the twos’ general direction. Reyes had seen the two as well.

Reyes snorted, “What about?”

McCree just stopped in his training and turned to face Reyes Fully. Reyes just shrugged off the man and went to the empty lane next to the gunslinger, upholstering the pistol at his hip.

“I mean isn’t it kinda weird that a person like Amélie would go out with someone like Lena?”

Reyes had even realized it, but his smile immediately dropped, and he stared the cowboy dead in the eye, “‘A person like Amélie’?”

McCree quickly put up his robot hand in mock surrender, “Whoa easy there papi bear.”

Reyes’ entire body bristled at the nickname. It was an old, weird little nickname that the team started using when he was captain of Overwatch’s special operations division. When he and Morrison were still...friendly. He knew ‘friendly’ was not an apt word for what they were, but Reyes refused to delve too deep into the past.

McCree sighed, “Anyway, I mean Amélie can be a bit...harsh.”

“She’s french.”

“Well I mean I just don’t want t’see Lena get’n hurt is all.” McCree surmised.

Reyes stayed silent and went back to loading his pistol and firing a couple of shots down range. His grouping were not as tight as usual, but he was more focused on periodically watching the two women talk. Lena was very chipper today, talking up a storm while Amélie gave a practice nod while inspecting her rifle. He had to admit McCree was not completely wrong in his analysis, but the two did make an odd pair. Though the gunslinger’s previous analysis was off the mark; Lena was not the one who was vulnerable in this arrangement.

Things remained generally peaceful out at the range until a familiar shout could be heard over the gunfire, “Find time off-hours you two!”

“Oh lay off’em Morrison, they ain’t harm’n noth’n.” McCree called from his lane.

Morrison looked up from where he stood next to next to the two woman, and continued his march over to the cowboy with a grimace. He made a conscious effort to give Reyes a wide birth.

“Got something to say, McCree?”

“I’m just say’n there ain’t no rules against fraternize’n.”

Overwatch had very lax policies in truth and as long as it did not inhibit one’s ability to perform their duties, co-worker relationships were not strictly prohibited so to speak. Such relationships were frowned upon by at least one person, however.

“After hours I don’t care, but my rule is not during company hours.” Morrison pressed, “You got a problem with that?”

“That’s your rule.” Reyes stated with his back still turned. He should have kept his mouth shut, but he had already lost his concentration the minute Morrison had walked over.

The man turned back to Reyes and growled, “Come again? Because my rules are what lead this team.”

He knew that his next words needed to be precise, professionally composed. If nothing else, they needed to not escalate the situation any further. Reyes turned around, and saw the fury on Morrison’s face. Cheeks burning red. Something about it was almost precious in a way. Reyes was not angry; hell this situation almost gave him a strange sense of calm.

“You never had a problem with it before,” Reyes stated. Morrison’s cheeks turned just a little pinker at his statement. With those reddened cheeks Reyes knew he wanted to make Morrison squirm in his skin in a bizarre form of vindictive justice for earlier that morning. Reyes leaned in close to the other man’s ear and said in a low whisper, “isn’t that right, _Daddy_?”

Reyes knew that he let all semblance of professional composure go when he made that statement. Just as much as he expected the head-butt that followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More of a continuation of the previous chapter, though this is more Filler if anything. I hope this more than makes up for the lack of updates. Want to at least make some deadlines before the month ends.  
> Also I know the rude Frenchman stereotype is an overly used joke, but I couldn't resist. I mean Widowmaker fulfills it in spades.


	8. Keeping You Honest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like there needed to be a proper interlude before I proceeded with what essentially is going to be Act 2 of the story.  
> And I wanted to give a brief moment in the story where we get a little bit of perspective from Jack and Gérard. special note at the end of the chapter.

Many things could be said about Gérard Lacroix: for one, he was a firm believer in 'effective problem solutions', something he had carried from his days fighting in NATO. Though that time was long behind him, Gérard had picked up a few habits from his time in the peace keeping forces. For instance he maintained a clean and professional appearance at all times of the day. His oxfords which had replaced his military boots, were kept polished to pristine order. His business attire always meeting the NATO dress code. He committed himself in keeping with a professional air of authoritative decisiveness and calm. Most days it was difficult to break his old habits, but currently Gérard found himself in the atypical position of using a considerable amount of willpower to not break his persona and laugh at the two men seated in front of his desk.

To his left sat Jack Morrison; his lip cut and disheveled hair, back ramrod straight in his chair. Morrison's seething anger a palpable aura steaming off of him in waves. Next to him, lounged Gabriel Reyes with a self-satisfied expression and sporting a bleeding nose. He was leaning casually in his chair with his arms crossed much to the obvious chagrin of the man seated next to him. The pair honestly looked like two school children who got caught in a schoolyard scuffle, and one of them obviously felt that he was the victor.

Gérard took a moment to compose himself. He busied himself by preoccupying his hands with straightening the papers on his desk. If they had been any other personnel on base, he would not have even bothered dealing with the issue: Human Resources would handle a rambunctious pair. A scolding, maybe even a firing would have been in order. But He at the pair had a history, and he knew that he was one of the few who could handle their juvenile behavior.

“You two have certainly made quite a commotion down at the range today." That was an understatement; he had just been passing through the facilities when he say Reyes putting Morrison in a choke hold. "Honestly I would have proposed taking it to the mat, but I suppose when passions flair..."

Morrison outwardly grimaced, while Reyes readjusted himself in his seat. _'Oh how this certainly feels like the old days.'_ Gérard thought with a brief chuckle.

  
"We just had to hash some things out." Reyes stated halfheartedly, making a concerted effort not to look in Morrison's direction.

  
"Is that so? Then tell me why you did not take it to the mat? We have furnished sparring facilities and equipment to hand such aggression."

  
 Reyes gave a nonchalant shrug, "There wasn't much time to put that into consideration when fists started to fly."

  
 Gérard nearly laughed at the other man's apathetic attitude. It was a front to be sure: the man's shoulders were set in a rigged manner. He would have let to let such banality continue, but as the the old adage went: “business should always come before pleasure”.

  
"Well it would be hard to ignore that you two apparently decided it was a good idea to fight around live weaponry." Gérard explained, his light demeanor turning serious, "Imagine if such behavior had lead to more than just your light flesh wounds. Someone else could have gotten hurt, yes?"

  
At this Morrison leaned forward, "As a higher ranking agent, I should have not escalated the situation. I take full responsibility for this altercation."  
Reyes rolled his eyes, but Gérard ignored him and simply nodded.

  
"I am not your commanding officer, and I'm not apart of the board of directors, Jack." Taking a moment to point toward the nameplate on his desk with the word, 'Head of Logistics and Strategy', "There is no apology needed, I have an expectation that you two can act in a professional manner befitting of you're position, Forward Operations Commander." After a minute to let his words sink in, Gérard let out a sigh and waved his hand, "Let's keep this incident between us, shall we gentlemen? No need to have internal affairs come in and make everything difficult. I will not be able to cover up another incident like this again."

  
Both men nodded, with Reyes quickly marching out of the office. Though Morrison lingered. Gérard had expected as much, not even giving the man a second glance as they waited for Reyes to leave. As the office door clicked shut Morrison let out an aggravated groan and rolled his shoulders. Gérard took the time to retrieve his reading glasses from his desk, and began reading over some paperwork. After a moments hesitation Morrison cleared his throat.

  
"Off the record?" Gérard patiently waited for him to continue, "I don't know why you signed him back on, Gérard."

  
"It was a fine opportunity: it has been years since your falling out with him. Time has passed, things have changed. We've talked about this."

  
"But after everything? The bad press, the court hearings he nearly brought down the organization over our head along with him. I don't see this as just being my problem."

  
Gérard flicked his eyes from the form he was reading and looked up to the other man across from him, "Excusez la correction, but to my memory I had more of a hand in enabling his actions than anyone else. Yet here I am." He waved his hand to his office to emphasize his point, "When Overwatch started It was small, forming among the ashes of a world ravaged by the Omnic Crisis. We made many mistakes, and we did what was necessary when the worlds' governments could do nothing. We had to perform some evils--"

  
"' _necessary evils._ '"

  
"Of which I cannot say that I am entirely proud of. But in the end we did do the right thing. Isn't that the reason you stuck around for so long after everything that happened?"  
Morrison begrudgingly had to agree, even if the truth left a sour taste in his mouth, "Didn't have much choice: someone had to stick around and keep this outfit honest."  
At this Gérard gave a airy chuckle, "Évident. As for Reyes, he lacked direction when he left. His work with Talon is the primary piece of evidence of this, and he is a very desirable operator in our business."

  
"So it was for purely business reasons?" Morrison scoffed.

  
"Yes, and better to have him in a place where we can keep tabs on him, no?" Gérard countered candidly as he went back to reading the form he still had in his hand.

  
Morrison crossed his arms, eyes downcast at nothing in particular. All the anger that he had left was slowly fizzling out. Gérard had a way of doing that: he may criticize the man's practices, but Gérard always had a way of maneuvering around people. It was equal parts aggravating, and disarming at once.  
His mind wondered briefly back to their incident in the gym that morning. Watching those plumes of smoke curl out of Reyes's throat and eyes was...concerning. It disturbed him how easily he had become so distressed over the other man when any other day he would have simply withdrawn any emotional ties to him that weren't connected loathing. He had just looked so helpless in those moments. As lost to himself as he was to the world around him. He didn't want to acknowledge why it hurt him so much when Reyes turned his help away: it honestly should have been expected. But he knew he saw the almost pleading look in Reyes' eyes. The entire situation could have be seen as humorous if it wasn't so downright pathetic; it was just like Reyes to turn down help when he needed it most. That very fact unsettled him for all the wrong reasons in his mind. Morrison was so lost in thought that he almost didn't hear the Gérard speak.

"You know this isn't too different from when Ana or I would have to scold you two for 'fraternizing' on base. Though there was less punching and more bruising in the other sense, but still pretty similar." Gérard stated out of the blue.

Morrison flustered with a light blush on his cheeks, "Oh please I don't need to reminisce over the past, like some old man reliving his glory years. It's the past, and I'm not even that old."

  
"Of course, of course. It was a simple observation." Gérard replied, though Morrison could hear the mischief in the other man's voice.

  
"Well since we're making observations; what of you and Ms. Guillard?"

  
Gérard looked up from his paper's and looked Morrison directly into his eyes. The was a deep loathing that flashed across his features, though at who was not evident. In any case it faded just as quickly to a forlorn sigh.

  
"I did go visit her the other day. I wanted to see how she was doing; how she was settling in in Gibraltar. It is not like France you know." Morrison huffed and raised a single eyebrow at him, silently pressing him further. Gérard rubbed the back of his neck, for first time at a loss for words. After a moments hesitation he put the papers he held in his free hand down on his desk.

"She is doing well. She shares the apartment with Reyes..."

  
"She is currently talking to agent Oxton."

  
Gérard looked confused at first at Morrison's statement, before his eyes lit up with realization, "Oh. Well Amélie is an adult, she has her own way of doing things."  His voice went soft, softer than it should have. There was a pang of grief, at something profound that had been lost to him.

Gérard was in a losing battle; aspiring for a goal that was far beyond his reach and for all his efforts, Morrison could see the pain in him. It reminded him of something in himself. Though it was of a battle he was trying his best to not even acknowledge.

  
"You need to let her go, Gérard." Morrison stated, his voice more gentle than it had been all day.

  
"I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooh boi. Okay... What could I adequately apologize for such a late update to this story?  
> A lot has happened in 2017 for me some of it great, some of it terrible. But I shouldn't have neglected updating this, and for that I am sorry.  
> If you're reading this, I wanna thank you for reading up to this point.  
> And to all of those that praise or critiqued: thank you from the bottom of my heart. Coming back to this and see all the past comments made me feel wonderful.


End file.
